Peek Goes to Hogwarts (Formerly After Harry Comes Peek)
by Mythrilforge
Summary: (Final chapter uploaded) "Ministry Managed" was the name given to a sizable population of wizards and witches. They chose the wrong side when "He who must not be named" rose to power and they paid dearly for it when the Potter child seemingly vanquished him. Ten years of poverty and hardship followed, but now, one of their own has been invited to Hogwarts.
1. Ch 1 - Forgiven

**Peek Goes to Hogwarts - Forgiven**

"Ministry Managed" was the name given to a sizable population of wizards and witches. They chose the wrong side when "He who must not be named" rose to power and they paid dearly for it when the Potter child seemingly vanquished him. Ten years of poverty and hardship followed, but now, one of their own has been invited to Hogwarts.

 **FYI, Hermione Granger leaves reviews after every fan fiction she reads - just saying...**

* * *

 **Chapter 1 - Forgiven**

"Eye of Newt?" said Peek. He held up the clear glass bottle and rolled the contents around with a swirling motion of his hand. His face curled into a scowl as he considered the many eyeless newts that must now be scurrying around London. "'Eye of Newt' is from an old muggle story. I'm pretty sure newt eyes aren't used for anything." He gave a second thought. "Except for seeing with, I suppose, if you are a newt."

Muggles were non-magic people, a part of whom, Peek was not. He was quite gifted with magic in fact, and living on the London streets, surviving day to day, and needing to fill an empty belly, made him particularly good at the thieving, defense, and mischievous sorts of magic. Underage wizards and witches were not allowed to perform magic, strictly speaking, but Peek managed.

The boy's name was Parker Ferris, or Peek for short. He was a gaunt, toothpick of a boy with thin straggled brown hair, sunken cheeks, and tired eyes with the look of not sleeping in ages, if ever. His clothes were old, faded, and threadbare and his shoes were worn and ragged with holes in the bottoms. Sure, he could clean them up, patch all the holes, and repair the opened seams with a couple choice spells, but why pretend to be presentable? Why pretend to be something he was not?

"Mr. Millwater, why do we need newt eyes?" called Peek to the old potions master across the potions shop room.

"I'm using them like cocktail olives for drinks," replied the venerable old man as he busied himself with the exotic teas and coffees that filled the store shelves. "They're fancy," he added.

With a snap of his fingers, Millwater caused all the teas and coffees to shift to the backs of their shelves. In their places slid small bottles, boxes, pouches, and packs of all kinds. These were the remedies and cures for common afflictions in the wizarding world such as shroom pox, brittlethumbs, and worrywarts, and the repellents used to keep away troublesome creatures from garden gnomes and pixies to muggles and their cats and dogs.

Byron Millwater, the potions shop owner, was a man of many, many, years. He was bent at the shoulders, perhaps from age, but more likely from hunching over his cauldrons, kettles, pots, and pans. He favored a gray woolen overcoat, black shirt with open collar, and black trousers. In his breast pocket was a splash of color depending on his mood. Today it was a green handkerchief. Yesterday it was an orange carrot.

Millwater had been a well-known potions-master before the rise of Voldemort and before his advanced age became _really_ advanced. His early credits included the potion of Lustering Locks hair growth, which sometimes had a big surprise for expectant mothers when they delivered. If you knew anyone named "Hairyot" or "Hairy" with unruly and unkempt hair, and maybe a lot of it when they were born, their mom or grandmother might have been a Millwater customer.

Peek rolled his eyes, the ones in his head and not in the jar, and turned his attention to the boy standing across from him, at the counter. "A sickle and twelve is too much for these," he said to the boy.

"I don't make up the prices, Peek, I just deliver." His Name was Steven.

"Fine," said Peek. "Will you take muggle money?"

"Sorry Peek, we can't anymore," said Steven. "Sickles and Knuts only."

"I know we can't anymore, none of us are allowed to, but, the money-changer will be here day after next. She never asks questions. No one will know."

"Mrs. Carter says that money-changing troll-scat can chew on her damn exchange rates. The ministry is cracking down on us using muggle money and she says goblins like that half-pint, toad-faced, gargoyle, her words not mine, will send us all to the bloody poor hovel with their rates. Well, Mrs. Carter says she's done with the goblins and the muggle pounds and pence."

Peek frowned. He looked after the old potions master in his failing years, which included a close watch on the volatile supplies, especially the ones that explode, and a closer watch on the dwindling till. He had a drawer full of British pound notes and a sack of their coins, which was more and more useless for their needs.

"Fine," said Peek with another frown. He paid the boy a sickle and twelve knuts from the muggle-style cash register at the end of the counter. He watched the boy leave before turning to Millwater.

"Sir, what do-," Peek started to shout to Millwater, expecting him to be back at the shelves, but the old man had treaded softly over to Peek and was there behind him.

"Peek, be a good lad and skewer each of them with a toothpick."

"Sir, you never entertain guests. How many people are you expecting for these 'fancy drinks'?"

"None," said Millwater as he shuffled back to the far shelves.

Peek stood there for a moment contemplating the tiny newt eyeballs, of stabbing them with toothpicks, and of garnishing drinks in the absences of guests.

"Sir-" Peek began.

"Look lively," said Steven as he popped his head back through the doorway. "The Ministry is down the street and coming this way."

"Thanks, Steve," called Peek as he rounded the counter to look out the window.

Steven nodded and was gone.

"Mr. Millwater," called Peek, "it's that Morris fellow again. He's three doors down, talking to Mrs. Gunderson."

"Alright then," said Millwater as he thumbed towards the back room, "you know the drill, hide in the back until he is gone."

"Yes sir," said Peek.

Byron Millwater sold potions, sundries, and curatives to the local wizarding community, but it was Peek who made all of them. Millwater's hands shook, his memory was far less than sharp, and his eyesight grew worse by the day. Peek was a child, and by ministry edict, had "no place behind the cauldron" to coin the potioners' phrase. Still, without Peek, the shelves would be bare of all but the simplest remedies.

Peek circled back around the counter and entered the back room through the open door. There were shelves full of pouches and bottles. There were sacks stacked in the corners and barrels lined up between them. A table stood in the center with six boiling and steaming cauldrons, assorted spoons made of silver, copper, and wood in order from smallest to largest, knives of varying sizes, glass vials and ceramic dishes, lead measuring weights, scales, mortar and pestle, and three open potions books; "A Practitioner's Guide to Perfect Potions", "Betty Crocker's Medieval Cauldron Recipes for the Modern Witch", and "Knightsbridge Cauldronry on a Stepney Budget". Of the three books, Betty Crocker was Peek's favorite. She was a little old-fashioned, but goodness, that woman could cook potions.

Peek gave a quick sniff to one of the bubbling cauldrons, gave a measured stir to another, and added a pinch of powdered rancor toenail to another. He ducked behind the room's door just as the ministry agent stepped into the shop. Peek watched through the slit between the door and the wall.

"Good morning, Mr. Morris," said Millwater to the Ministry of Magic agent. I trust you had a good trip?"

The young ministry wizard wore the typical, if not standard-issue, dark suit, dark tie, and dark shoes. His name was Carlton Morris and he was not living the ministry dream he thought he would be living, by this time in his life. He was stuck where the young lackluster agents landed and where the old agents found themselves when their best years were in the past.

Morris was a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in a unit tasked with managing certain squibs, certain near-muggles, and a sizable population of wizards and witches who could work magic but only under heavy restrictions. They were the "Ministry Managed", or "MMs" because they chose the wrong side when the dark wizard, Voldemort, rose to power.

"Yes, yes, Millwater. The trip over was fine," said Morris. His face gave a look of limited patience and the tone of his voice bordered between boredom and annoyance

"Can I offer you a drink, sir? I have lemonade? Or, do you prefer some tea? I can set a kettle on."

"No, Millwater." The tone of his voice tipped closer towards annoyance.

"Very well sir," said Millwater.

Morris produced a short stack of documents from a black leather folder and sifted through it until he found the one marked "Millwater, Byrin - Potions Vendor". The name was misspelled. Someone would get around to correcting it one day.

"Let's get this over with," said Morris. "Are you Mr. Byron Millwater, Potions Vendor, Number forty-eight and three fifths, Wandsworth Bridge Rd., London?"

"Yes sir," said Millwater.

"And Mr. Millwater, in the last thirty-one days, have you had any visitors to your establishment who by Ministry standards, would be regarded as unsavory or undesirable?

"No, sir," said Millwater, "all upstanding folks, both ours and the muggles."

Peek thought to himself, "We've had more unsavory visitors in the last week than I have fingers and toes." He smiled, "And, we had a dozen of your 'Undesirables' hiding in the cellar during your last raid."

Morris droned on. "In the last thirty-one days, have you ever, even once, sold, traded, bartered, lent, or in any other way affected the transferal of potions, elixirs, or brews deemed prohibited by the Ministry?"

"No sir." said Millwater but he shuffled his feet a little as he spoke and looked elsewhere to avoid the agent's eyes.

Peek smiled again. He had once managed a polyjuice potion for a wizard named Jimmy Fables who used it to make him look like a quidditch star, so he could sell fake autographs. He had also made an invisibility potion, with Millwater's guidance, for old man Hibbs who used it to sneak off with a case of muggle whiskey. "I'm pretty sure those are on your 'Prohibited' list," said Peek in a whisper.

"This includes inferior, counterfeit, or contraband potion ingredients or equipment, as given in the full, unabridged list, published in the ministry sub-document, "Restrictive Componentry, Potion-making", Classes A through G"

"No sir," said Millwater.

On this one, Peek agreed. As Mr. Millwater always said, "Use a bad cauldron to lose a good customer."

"In the past thirty-one days, have you received a request for any potion, confactuary, construct, or product, regardless of whether acted upon by you or another working by factor?

"No sir. No factors and no proxies."

"Except me," thought Peek with yet another smile. "And, I bet 'Confactuary' is a made-up word."

"Very well, by the authority given to me, by the Ministry of Magic, I hereby extend your license for another thirty-one days."

"Thank you sir," said Millwater.

Morris nodded as he stuffed the papers back into his folder.

"So then, Millwater" Morris continued in a less official tone, "any trouble with muggles?"

"No sir," Millwater replied. "I have my regular customers, and the curious sometimes, but the rest leave me alone."

"Uh huh," replied Morris with a note of disinterest. "Any trouble with owl traffic? The Muggles get suspicious if too many come and go at a time. What about owl droppings or missing cats?"

"None sir, that I know of. We still take our mail up on the roof. There is an empty pigeon coop we use as an owlry. A couple of the older kids keep it clean and running."

Morris nodded again. "Very well, let's get a look at your work and I'll be on my way."

"Of course sir."

Morris skirted the counter and entered the back room as he did every month. Millwater stepped in behind him and stood between Morris and the door behind where Peek hid.

"What are you making today?" asked Morris.

"Remedies for aches and pains, mostly," said Millwater, "and muggle deterrent."

Morris leaned over the nearest cauldron and gave a light sniff. He pulled back quickly with a sour expression.

"Sorry sir, that would be the 'Wet Dog' muggle deterrent. It is mostly aroma-based."

"You might have told me sooner, Millwater," said Morris. The tone of his voice tipped further towards annoyance. "And, what is this one?" He pointed to the next cauldron in line. "Some sort of pain relief, yes?"

"Indeed sir, that one is for aching joints. Mrs. Bedgood says her knee is acting up."

"Margo Bedgood on 5th Street?" asked Morris as he turned his attention to the containers lined up on the shelves.

"No sir, Liddy Bedgood near the park."

Morris nodded again as he checked the expiration dates on the pickled toadstools and the virgin hemlock.

A loud fluttering and the beating of wings in the shop ended the inspection. A tawny owl had swooped in through an open window and had landed on the counter.

"Empty chicken coop on the roof, eh?" asked Morris with a matter-of-fact tone.

"Pigeon coop, sir, and a pardon if you will. I expect she's a ministry owl. They are not ones to wait in a coop, in the company of other owls."

"Indeed," said Morris with a final nod. "Until next month, Millwater."

"Very good sir."

Carlton Morris left the potions shop on his way to other routine checks. Peek waited for several minutes before coming out from behind the door, lest the "M-Man" ("M" for "Ministry") returned with some forgotten ministration.

"She's not from the ministry," said Millwater as he fed the tawny a bit of owl kibble and sent her on her way. "Someone official knows you're here" he continued as he handed the letter to Peek.

"Maybe it's the Chudley Cannons again," said Peek with a laugh. "They're a great quidditch team but I do grow tired of their pestering."

Millwater smiled. "Right you are. They'll need to look elsewhere for a five-star, five stone, beater."

"Five and a half stones," said Peek in mock indignation. He puffed out what little he had of his adolescent chest.

"Five and a little at best," chided Millwater, "and only with a full belly and you soaking wet." He ruffled Peek's hair. "Go on, let's have a look."

Peek tore open the letter addressed, Mr. Parker Ferris, Number forty-eight and three fifths, Wandsworth Bridge Rd., Fulham, London, and read it aloud:

 _Dear Mr. Ferris, We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress_

"Hogwarts?" said Peek. His face curled into a look of astonishment. "Is this for real?"

"Hogwarts," Millwater repeated. He felt his legs wobble beneath him. He leaned against the counter to steady himself. "Are we forgiven so soon?"

Peek did not hear his old Potions Master speak or his reference to ten years past when the promises of a smooth-talking deatheater convinced hundreds of witches and wizards like him to rise up against the establishment, caused the deaths of most, and condemned the survivors to a life of near-servitude. Instead, Peek stood within a whirlwind of excitement. "Mr. Millwater, am I going to Hogwarts?" His voice was barely contained. "Am I going _there_?" He pointed towards the North and a little West.

"I believe you are, lad" said Millwater. "Merlin's beard, I believe you are."

 **End of Chapter 1**


	2. Ch 2 - Wand or Ball-Bat

Chapter 2 - Wand or Ball-Bat?

 _"Sure he's got a scar on his forehead, and it looks like a lightning bolt, which is cool, but it really is just the one scar. I had dozens before my fifth birthday."_

* * *

"Harry Potter? ' _The'_ Harry Potter?" said Peek to himself as the shadow of a large half-man, half-giant named Rubeus Hagrid passed over him. Harry Potter was at the giant's side after leaving a nearby shop. He looked like a pawn in chess, next to a tall rook, or castle if you prefer, except the rook was the size of a grizzly bear and the pawn was the size of a butterbeer bottle.

Peek recognized the Potter boy when a chance breeze parted his mussy hair and revealed the mark on his forehead. Peek knew the boy had been scarred by the encounter with Voldemort but he didn't know the scar was in the shape of a lightning bolt. He thought it was cool.

Peek thought about his own scars. He had some on his knees, elbows, and on his knuckles, none of which looked like anything grand. He had a long thin scar on his side, from a drunken muggle's knife. He learned a lesson that day; muggles are crazy when they drink.

He watched as "The Boy Who Lived" and the huge, lumbering, "Difficult to Explain How This Happened/Love Child" discussed Potter's school supplies list, the same list Peek had in a pocket.

Peek smiled at the giant among men. "Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts, School for the _Marginally_ Gifted," he muttered in a deep silly voice. "I give you, 'Hagrid the Horrible'."

"What's that?" said the half-giant as he turned back towards Peek. His voice was gruff and intimidating but the tone was not.

"S-Sorry, nothing," said Peek as he looked down and kicked a stone with his foot. "I was talking to myself."

Hagrid gave a half-smile, "Alright then." He patted Peek on the head with a force somewhere between a dropping sledgehammer and the proverbial "ton of bricks".

"Note to self," thought Peek, "The half-giant has good hearing."

Peek looked up to see Potter give him a glance before striding down the sidewalk, to keep up with Hagrid. He lost Potter in the great swarm of students, parents, and the like, but Hagrid, towering well above the crowd, would likely be seen for blocks.

"Wow," he thought with sarcasm. "Harry Potter looked at me. I think I'm supposed to be honored."

Peek sighed and pulled out the long list of supplies he would need for his first year attending Hogwarts, School for the _Magically_ Gifted.

"Hogwarts is where they send famous kids like Harry Potter," Peek continued as he scanned the list. "You don't find squib kids at Hogwarts. I know plenty of them. They're home-schooled or they're sneaked into muggle schools." He watched two older girls fawning over new cloaks. "You don't find the near-muggles at Hogwarts either. They're at home too being taught parlor tricks in the hopes something "might click" or a cure is discovered to help their under-abilities." He watched a bevy of boys gathered at a window drooling over a racing broom. "You don't find street kids like me there either." He saw a boy his age with a stack of new books, holding them as if they were trophies. "What will the Malfoys say about me being at Hogwarts? What will the Burkes say? What will Ol' Lady Longbottom say?" Peek considered what he knew of Augusta Longbottom. "She's a frightful woman to be sure. I bet she'd say anything she damn well pleased, including, 'You have exactly three seconds to get this filthy street beggar away from my grandson'."

"Yeah, I met Neville Longbottom," Peek thought for a moment. "He's alright. I read about his grandma somewhere, I guess I don't really know what she would say."

With a heavy sigh and a heavy push against the nearby door, Peek entered Ollivanders Wand Shop. The door was not heavy and required only a light push. It sailed round in a semi-circle on its hinges, and slammed into the wall.

"Sorry," said Peek in a whisper. Ollivander was there behind the counter. He had the appearance of a contemplative man in his purplish-red, turn-of-the-century waistcoat, shirt, and grey slacks. Peek felt it necessary to lower his voice because the man was so deep in his thoughts.

Garrick Ollivander, wand-crafter extraordinaire, neither heard the loud crash of the door nor Peek's quiet apology. "Brother against brother be it wand or wizard, bodes well for none," said Ollivander out loud and with a voice of forbearance. "Harry Potter," he continued, "you and your wand would do well to avoid _him_ and _his_."

"Pardon me sir," said Peek in a voice only a little louder. He did not want to interrupt the man in the middle of his dramatic oration, but it would seem more impolite to stand there in silence, listening to him and whatever he might say.

Ollivander looked down at Peek with surprise. He pushed aside a stack of wand boxes to get a better look.

"No, my young sir, it is I who must beg your pardon for my distraction."

"Distraction? Over 'Scarface'?"

Ollivander gave a clear frown of disapproval. "Scarface" was not an appropriate name for Harry Potter or anyone else.

"I mean Harry Potter, sir" said Peek. "I guess he's kind of a distraction. He's 'The Boy Who Lived'."

"Indeed, Harry Potter," repeated Ollivander giving a short cursory smile. "But he is a matter best left for others to dwell upon. You are here now and a first year student no doubt. You'll be wanting a wand, Mister...?"

"Ferris, sir," My name is Parker Ferris," said Peek, still in a low voice.

Peek looked around at the thousands and thousands of wands in their boxes of differing colors and sizes, stacked on shelves to either side, and as far back into the shop as his eyes could see. "Did you make all these wands?"

"I come from a long line of wand makers, Mr. Ferris. Many of these are very old; made long before my time.

It was the colors that fascinated Peek the most. He saw only the ends of the boxes and they stacked like bricks in bursts of color; here red, there blue, over here, green with gold trim, and over there, silver with black script. Of course, a good dusting of the old place might make the colors pop, and maybe a little more natural light.

"Well then, Mr. Ferris, where should we start?" said Ollivander with a smile as he sized up the boy. "Are you a budding wizard of adventure? Do you seek knowledge and understanding? Are you one for long hours with the books or long hours in the quidditch pitch?

Peek did not respond. It was a great many questions in rapid succession. Which should he answer? Was it appropriate to answer all or select the one that applied most? He paused without answering. "None of these" he thought to himself.

"I sense hesitation, Mr. Ferris. I assure you I have done this many times. There is nothing to be afraid of. As I never miss an opportunity to say, 'the wand chooses the wizard'. And, I have many wands with which to present. We will find you an appropriate match."

Peek sighed heavily, reached into several pockets and produced three galleons, thirty-three sickles, and eighty-seven knuts. He set them on the counter and took a moment to separate them by value. "What can I get with this?"

"I see," said Ollivander as he considered the piles of coins and the young fellow standing behind them. He was not unfamiliar with would-be students buying their first wands with great numbers of sickles and knuts. Often, it indicated parents who required their sons or daughters to earn their first wands. He encouraged the activity because it was an excellent lesson in teaching value. Still, Peek's appearance suggested a life of poverty and of life on the streets. The small trove might be years of saving.

"This is more than enough for a quality wand, Mr. Ferris." He collected up a single galleon and twenty-four knuts. "I have several in mind already"

Mr. Ollivander sorted through the boxes of wands on the counter between him and Peek. Not satisfied, he mounted a ladder on his right to reach into the uppermost shelves. He pulled down a gray box, two blue boxes, and one red box. The red box was three inches longer than the other three.

Ollivander returned to the counter and pointed to the remaining coins. "Put those back in your pockets, young man. You'll need them for your other supplies."

Peek hesitated. "Sir, I'll pay full price. I'm not asking for special consideration."

"Nor am I giving it," said Ollivander, "but I am practical, as I expect you are as well. We'll find you a suitable wand within your means."

Peek wasted no time in scooping up the coins and squirreling them back into his pockets.

"Now then, Mr. Ferris, I am going to set this box aside," said Ollivander as he set down the red box and slid it to his left. "I think in the end we will settle on this wand but I would like to try the other three first.

The first wand, from the gray box, was made of cedar and had a core of dragon heartstring. While it felt good in Peek's hand and was particularly responsive with a simple wave, Ollivander deduced that the effect was lackluster and that perhaps, the second box should be tried.

The second wand, the nearest of the two blue boxes, was of chestnut with a unicorn hair core. This wand felt awkward to Peek from the first moment his finger brushed it's surface to the moment he set it back down on the counter.

Ollivander pushed the second blue box aside. "No point in opening that one." He slid the red box back over to a position in front of Peek. He opened the lid and set it aside. He removed the wand gently and handed it to Peek. It was heavy. The wand was a full thirteen inches long, as thick as Peek's thumb, with dark wood grain of the Walnut variety, and a core of dragon heartstring.

"If I can't cast with it, said Peek with a smile, "I can swing it like a club." He thought he was being funny and looked for approval in Ollivander's eyes, but found none. Instead he found a small measure of contempt, as any artist might show when given insult.

"It's a fine wand, Mr. Ollivander," said Peek. "I meant no disrespect."

Ollivander warmed a little then and gave a disarming smile. "Perhaps you might give it a swing, Mr. Ferris, like a ball-bat."

The wand gave Peek a sense or warmth, like standing in the full sun on a summer day. Peek waved it several times and felt a deep connection with it, like walking back through a fond memory. He scrolled in the air before him as if writing his name, first with the wand in his fisted hand but finishing with it between his thumb and index finger like the conductor of a grand orchestra.

"I can say with all certainty, Mr. Ferris, that we have found your wand."

 **End of Chapter 2**


	3. Ch 3 - The Great Escape - Not

**Chapter 3 - The Great Escape – Except, Not Really**

" _If he messes with my shoes again, he'll be pulling back a nub for his arm…"_

 _~Ivy Taggart_

* * *

Flourish and Blotts was a required stop for students before the start of school. Each student received a list of books he or she would need throughout the year, all of which were available for purchase. Along with the books, visitors could pick up their stock of writing quills, inks, drying powders, parchment and if the whim demanded, the latest romance novel, "The Fifth Unforgivable Curse is Love" or teen adventure novel, "The Dark Wizard is My Brother".

Peek compared his list with the stack of books next to him. "The Standard Book of Spells". Check," he said to himself. "A History of Magic", "Magical Theory", and "A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, "Check. Check. Check." said Peek quietly. He continued through the list, "Herbs and Fungi, Drafts and Potions, Beasts and Dark Forces. All here."

Peek looked around him. There were wizards and witches everywhere in the shop, young and old, looking through the books, standing in lines, and standing in the way. None seemed to be looking in his direction and with one easy wave of his hand, the books glided from the table and into his open backpack. He took three steps towards the front door when a hand caught him by the shoulder.

An older girl, a sixth year at Hogwarts, noticed Peek standing idly near the stack of books and glancing this way and that. She softly padded over to him without him knowing. It was her hand on his shoulder, with her fingers curled around the strap of his backpack.

"Hold on there, kid," she said. "This isn't necessary."

The girl's name was Ivy Taggart. She was taller than Peek by six or seven inches. She had curling red hair which was almost gold in color, but dark. Her arms and legs were long and slender, but strong like a ballerina might be, or a runner. She wore a bronze and blue blouse in the Ravenclaw color theme, jeans, and an affectionate smile like an older sister might have for a younger sibling.

The heavy walnut wand in Peek's belt was an easy grasp and brandishing a weapon was an act with which he was not unfamiliar, but he stiffened instead and waited, ready to run. He had been caught stealing before, both in the wizarding world and the muggle world. He had been punished more times than he could recall. How bad could the next moments be?

He decided not to wait for the answer. Like a shot, he was out the door and into the street, leaving Ivy with the heavy backpack, which thumped to the floor.

"Hey wait!," called Ivy. She took a step forward but much to her great surprise, her shoe-laces were tangled together in dozens of knots. She fell forward to her hands and knees, with a thump, right next to the backpack.

"Did he just jinx me?" she said out loud. She turned to her friends. "Did he _really_ just jinx me?"

Both friends shrugged. "I didn't hear anything," said one.

Ivy cleared the jinx with a wave of her wand while in her mind she shouted, "Challenge accepted, you little fidget!"

Like a second shot, Ivy gave chase. The backpack lay half open on the book shop floor. The nearest of Ivy's friends gave it a curious tap with her foot.

Diagon Alley was a blur as both children weaved their way through the crowd at full speed, past the old G&J joke shop and past the bank. Peek made a quick turn down Knockturn Alley and dove into a pile of loosely stacked boxes. Ivy turned after him moments later, just as Peek toppled the boxes in her path. He sprung up behind her and charged back into the street.

Ivy skidded into the boxes and stumbled over them. She turned in place, checked her shoelaces, and with renewed vigor, continued the chase.

Peek ran across the street and down into a second alley with Ivy in hot pursuit. He cut to the right behind the near building, across a small, weed-choked garden, jumped over a low fence, and entered another alley further in. There, he came upon a young man in a soiled apron emptying a bucket of kitchen slop into a large trough. The building behind him was a muggle restaurant as was the young man who worked there.

The young man's name was "Spike" or at least Spike was what he wanted people to call him. His mom called him William. He had bad teeth, which were greenish in color, and framed with thin lips.

Peak tried one of his favorite tactics, which usually worked with moms, often worked with dads, and sometimes worked with guys like Spike. "Help me!" he shouted. "I'm being mugged!"

Spike looked back towards the fence just as Ivy hopped over it. She landed square on her feet with her eyes laser-focused on Peek. "There you are!" she shouted.

Spike considered Ivy and gave an approving whistle. "Damn kid, I'd let her catch me, if I were you."

"What?" said Peek. "I'm trying to get away."

"I'd say you're trying too hard," said Spike with a loud laugh.

"You're not helping," said Peek.

Peek continued down the alley running as fast as he could. He was getting tired. He never had to run more than a block or two to escape shop owners, the ministry, or the muggle police, but he couldn't shake the older girl. Soon, and not surprising, he could hear her catching up to him.

The next alley over ran between two long buildings which was trouble for Peek. There were no doors to duck into, no large obstacles to scramble around, just a long race against someone taller, stronger, and clearly faster.

Peek ran, full tilt towards the far end of the alley. His heart thumped heavy in his chest. His lungs felt as if they would explode. His legs felt like rubber. He was well short of mid-way when he felt the girl's hand catch hold of his shirt. He felt her dig her fingers into the material of his collar. He felt her haul him back and drag him to a stop.

"I was a sprinter in track," she said between labored breaths. "It's a muggle thing. It means I can run faster than you."

Peek struggled against her grasp but she held tight.

"Stop it!" she shouted after a short tussle, "or I'll show you what I did to my little brothers when they acted out."

Peek had no idea what a "sprinter in track" was in the muggle world. But whatever it was, she was right, it meant he couldn't outrun her. His last resort was magic. In the next moment, his new wand, thirteen inches long and as thick as his thumb, was in his outstretched hand and pointed at her heart.

The girl smiled, released her grasp, and backed up a little to give Peek some room. "You wouldn't hurt a poor muggle-born, would you?" she said with a laugh. She held her hands up, shaking in mock-fear, as if being robbed by a villainous thug. "Won't someone help me?" she called up the alley in an overly dramatic voice.

Peek frowned because he was not amused.

She smiled again as she let her hands drop to her sides. She backed up to the wall behind her and leaned against it. Breathing heavy, she slid down to a sitting position.

Peak was just as tired, even more so, but he continued to stand on wobbly legs.

"You should put that wand away." She gestured in the direction they had come. "That fellow back there was a muggle."

"I know he was a muggle and I'll keep it out, all the same," said Peek. He bent over with his wand hand supporting at the knee and the other pinching his side.

"Suit yourself," said Ivy with a shrug. "So, why were you stealing those books?"

"Why do you care?" breathed Peek. He was winded and finding it difficult to talk with the angry stitch in his side.

"I don't," said Ivy, "but you should know there are programs that will help you get your books. You don't have to steal them."

"I wanted my own books; new books," said Peek between breaths. "Nothing says 'street kid' like beat up old hand-outs."

The girl leaned her head back against the wall and looked up at the sky between the buildings. She was recovering much faster than Peek. There was no way he would get away from her, not without using the wand in his hand.

"Nothing says 'street kid' like stealing from a book store," replied Ivy. Or the state of his clothes and the dirt on his face but no good could come from stating the obvious.

"Nothing says 'mind your own damn business' like a thump on the head." Peek waved the wand threateningly.

Ivy laughed. "And nothing says 'I'd like to see you try, little man' like an angry ' _me'_."

Peek didn't reply.

"But you have a point," she said. "I left my muggle parents for school and only go back home because of my brothers. I really am muggle-born but to some, it's like being a second-class witch. It's not how I would like to be known."

Peek nodded in agreement. He wasn't muggle-born but people often looked at his grubby appearance and expected him to be.

"Still, this is a poor way to start School. You're a first year, right?"

Peek nodded. "Yeah, what of it?"

"Alright then listen," said Ivy. "When you get to Hogwarts, you'll have everything you need; your own bed, blankets and linen, hot meals, and tea in the mornings and between classes if you like, all the comforts of a good home."

"There you are!" shouted Gina suddenly. She was the first of Ivy's two close friends.

"We need to go," called Macey who followed Gina. "This looks like a bad place to be." Macey was her second close friend. Both girls had chased after Ivy but neither were athletic. When they arrived, it was at a slow recovering walk.

Ivy ignored her friends and instead, stood and crossed the alley back to Peek.

"You will like it there," she continued but in a quieter voice. "You can have a warm bath every night if you wanted."

Peek started to protest. Who was she to suppose he wanted _or needed_ a bath? He had a good washing from time to time. Who was she to think he didn't have blankets or whatever the hell "linen" was? He had managed just fine without Hogwarts. Meals were sufficient and sometimes hot, also sometimes half-eaten and sometimes won by fending off an angry dog or two but what in life is not made sweeter by the difficulty in which it is received? "Maybe I don't want-"

Ivy interrupted, "But, you need to get there first, and doing this," she gently pushed the walnut wand away and down, "is a good way to miss out."

Peek looked back at the two girls who were getting closer but Ivy reached over and pulled his face back around at the chin.

"Find me when you get to Hogwarts," she added. "I'm with the Ravenclaws. I have all the books from my first year. They're in great shape and you can have them."

"But I-"

"It's settled," said Ivy. She reached around to Peek's back and pushed him in the direction they had come, past the two girls who looked at them with well-practiced frowns.

"You are so not a Ravenclaw," said Macy as she took up strides with Ivy.

"One day they are going to walk you down to the Hufflepuffs," said Gina who followed. "And girl, you look dreadful in black and yellow."

The four students; three Ravenclaws and one yet to be decided, paced back down the alley. "I wouldn't mind being a Gryffindor," said Ivy with a smile. "I bet they have more fun."

"Gryffindors are idiots," said Gina.

"They're obnoxious," said Macey, "and all the boys are immature."

"Except Oliver Wood?" said Ivy with a wry smile.

"Except Oliver Wood," agreed Macey.

Ivy turned to Peek and gestured towards Macey. She mouthed the word "Oliver" with mock lovesick swooning. She finished with a wink.

Peek didn't reply. He didn't know much about the Hogwarts Houses - Ravenclaws, Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, or whatever that other one was.

 **End of Chapter 3**


	4. Ch 4 - Of Green Teeth & a Sore Knee

**Chapter 4 - Of Green Teeth and a Sore Knee**

" _I only said 'hello' to be polite - not 'come find us because we need dates'."_

 _~Gina Dorety_

* * *

 **I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Franchise. No ownership of any sort is implied.**

 **Catch-up**

\- Peek's people were recruited by Voldemort and after his fall, became the "Ministry Managed".

\- Peek was the first of his people's children invited back to Hogwarts.

\- He saw Harry Potter and Hagrid for a brief moment.

\- A heavy thirteen inch wand "Chose" Peek at Ollivanders.

\- He tried stealing his books for school but was chased down by Ivy Taggart, a Ravenclaw with a hardy character. The chase ended blocks away from Diagon Alley. Ivy's two friends caught up to them.

\- Ivy, Gina, Macey, and Peek are in rough part of London walking back to Diagon Alley.

\- A local muggle, who they had passed by during the chase, has tracked them down.

* * *

"What are you fine young ladies doing wandering around the back streets of London?" said a young man as he stepped out from the shadows to block the way past.

Spike, the muggle from the restaurant, had left his soiled apron and bucket of kitchen slop, called a couple friends, and went looking for the three girls who had passed by in the alley.

"If you're looking for a good time," he added, "I know a cool place where we can go."

The consequences of running headlong into an unknown city neighborhood where neither the ministry of magic nor muggle police had a presence, dawned on the three girls. It didn't dawn on Peek. He had run 'headlong' plenty of times, but always seemed to find his way back to where he needed to be.

Peek shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I'm not a fine lady and I'm not looking for a good time," he said with a tone of annoyance, "and you got green teeth."

"Shut up, twerp," said Spike. "I wasn't talking to you."

Spike turned his attention to Ivy and her friends. "You ladies like to party? Me and my mates got some beer." He drew out a cigarette from a pack in his shirt pocket, held it to his thin lips, and slowly lit it, as if savoring the experience. He flicked the spent match towards Peek and exhaled through the corner of his mouth. "They're on their way."

"We're not interested," said Ivy. She sidestepped to go around Spike, but he moved to block her again.

"You should stay," said Spike. "D'ya smoke."

"No, I don't smoke. Please let us pass," said Ivy, She tried to sidestep again, and Gina and Macey shuffled behind her, but Spike blocked them again.

Peek wondered if Ivy's use of "Please" was more of a routine courtesy than part of an actual request. She ended her steps in a ready stance, like a boxer would have. She seemed poised, like a snake ready to strike.

Spike tilted his head, squinted his eyes, and took a long, long, draw on his cigarette, which was his idea of what cool people looked like when they smoked.

"Why is he squinting his eyes like that?" Peek thought to himself. It didn't really matter to him, he used the theatrical moment to stomp on Spike's foot.

Spike howled in pain.

"Run!" shouted Peek.

Gina screamed. Macey screamed. Ivy kicked 'ol green teeth right in the knee.

The three girls ran down the alleyway to a service street where the corners of four buildings came together.

"C'mon kid!" shouted Ivy before disappearing around the corner.

Peek followed at a distance looking back for Spike who was limping after them and shouting a long string of profanity.

Peek got to the four corners just as three young men arrived on his right. There was no mistaking them from Spike's mates; they all looked like they shopped at the same "Invent Your Own Subculture" clothing store.

"Get them!" shouted Spike as he pointed towards Peek and were the Ravenclaws turned the corner. The three young men gave chase.

Peek followed after Gina and Macey, but Ivy wasn't with them. He passed her further up the street, crouching behind a rusted old filing cabinet. She gave a broad, mischievous grin as she gestured for Peek to keep running, which he was more than willing to do.

Gina and Macey turned up another alley, in the direction of Diagon Alley. Peek stopped at the same corner and looked back for Ivy.

"Crash!"

Ivy sent the old cabinet flying at the three young men from her place of hiding. Coincidently, but not really, the metal grating of a nearby fire escape detached itself from its building and fell down on Spike, just as he arrived.

The three young men recovered from the flying cabinet surprise and rounded on Ivy. She sprung up and cut between them and Spike who was stuck within a cage of bent and twisted metal. She stopped just beyond his reach to let the spitting-angry fellow swing and grasp at her through the bars like a clawing animal. She gave him a smirk, blew him a kiss, and set off running again.

"Get her!" shouted Spike as he got down on all fours and tried to wiggle his way out from under the wreckage. He might have gotten loose if Peek hadn't come at a run and jumped on it like a springboard. Ol' Green Teeth was flattened down onto the pavement and stayed that way.

Ivy stayed on a set of alleys that ran in parallel with Gina's and Macey's. The three young men chased after Ivy and Peek chased after them. Ivy could run faster than anyone Peek had ever known, and it was no surprise when all three of the young men gave up the chase. They stopped and were bent over at the waist, with heaving chests, when Peek surprised them on his way past.

Peek held up half of a peace sign in their direction, a middle-finger gesture, which they returned in kind.

The next alley over opened onto a busy street with shops, automobiles, and lots of muggles. Peek turned left in the direction where Gina and Macey would have come out. He had a better chance finding them, then the greased-lightning red-head who outran them all.

Two streets down, Peek found Gina and Macey with Ivy. They sat together on a park bench, recovering from the high-adrenaline encounter.

"Ivy, you could have gotten us killed," cried Gina. "Those were muggles and muggles are dangerous." Gina was out of breath which was evident in her strained voice.

Macey rocked back and forth nervously on the edge of the bench seat. "We need to go," she said between breaths. "This isn't our world."

Ivy saw Peek. "Did you see them!" she said with a laugh as Peek drew near. "That goofy-looking guy was so mad!"

Peek laughed. "You kicked him!"

"I did," said Ivy matter-of-factly. "Do you think it hurt? I thought it hurt."

Peek laughed again.

"Wait! Wait!," she said. She stood up tall. "Would you ladies like to party?" she spoke in a deep mocking voice. "You can watch me smoke cigarettes in slow motion."

Peek guffawed. He liked this 'Ivy' girl with her animated enthusiasm. She was funny.

"Ivy, stop laughing" shouted Gina. "It's not funny."

"It _is_ funny. I grew up muggle and us girls didn't win against older boys like that." Ivy stood up proud. "And they scattered like cockroaches because I threw a bloody cabinet at them!"

"Ivy, stop it!" cried Macey.

"Oh come on, it was a bit of fun," said Ivy. "That was fun, wasn't it Peek?"

Peek nodded his agreement as he too caught his breath. He seemed to be out of breath a lot with this girl.

"Ivy Please, let's go," said Gina.

"Okay, okay." said Ivy. "Fine, we can go."

Ivy looked around curiously. "I thought we ran towards Diagon Alley but maybe we're still south of it.

"Are we lost?" cried Macey with a spike of extra panic.

"No, no" said Peek as he pointed north. "It's that way."

Peek and the three Ravenclaws walked up several muggle streets on their way back to Diagon Alley. There were many hints they were getting closer; Carla's Imported Brooms, The Kitchen Connection with a sale on Cauldrons, and Wanda's Short Handrail Spindles & Tipless Drumsticks (aka "Wands").

Many of the storefront windows had small black crossed-wands symbols in their lower corners, which as Peek identified, meant the stores were part of the wizarding community. An old coffee shop with living quarters above, had its door propped open with a large blue painted stone. The Blue stone indicated the shop as a hiding place from the Ministry of Magic. A Yellow stone meant the shop was being watched by the Ministry. Peek did not mention these to Ivy and her friends.

"You're not supposed to use magic," said Peek. He had trailed behind the others and Ivy slowed up to walk with him. "You're too young."

"It's not a spell if you don't use your wand," said Ivy. "It's the wand, you see? That's what the ministry watches for. Otherwise it's like we're doing accidental magic, like when we're angry or scared and things just happen. They don't see it. We don't get caught."

I don't think it works that way," said Peek.

"Trust me, I'm older than you."

Peek thought for a moment. "Wait a minute. You don't need a wand?"

"Not really. Not for the easy stuff."

"You pulled down a huge ladder thing from the side of a building. How easy was that?"

"It's called a 'fire escape' and it's muggle stuff. It's easy to take it apart when you know how it was made."

"You know how muggle stuff is made?"

"Yeah, I told you I'm muggle born. I grew up with it."

Peek walked in silence for a short while.

"I don't need a wand either," he said with a quiet voice.

"I saw that when we were in the book store," said Ivy as she ruffled Peek's hair. "We're kind of special, you and I"

Peek rumpled his face. "Lots of people can cast without their wands."

"Students? No, not lots. Only some. Not many adults either."

Ivy reached around Peek again and pushed him forward. "C'mon, let's catch up.

 **End of Chapter 4**


	5. Ch 5 - Purdy'S Pub

**Chapter 5 - Purdy's Pub**

" _Merlin's Beard! Is that what people think? I gotta take that sign down."_

* * *

Peek had spent several hours gathering up what he could of his needed school supplies. Ivy was helpful but he lost her to a large gaggle of Ravenclaws, mostly girls, all hugging and kissing each other after spending the long summer holiday apart.

Peek's day ended at "Purdy's", which was the pub of Millwater's old friend, Purdy UhnKleen.

Millwater closed up the Potions shop early that day so he could meet up with Peek, have dinner, and see him aboard the Hogwarts Express, the next day.

"The Leaky Cauldron" was a fine place to get a good meal and a room for the evening, "The Dragon's Flame" was another good place. So too, was the "Errant Bludger". Way, way down on the list, behind a number of muggle establishments, some of them closed and abandoned or condemned, was "Purdy's".

Purdy had a sign over the door which read, "Purdy UhnKleen - Spirits and Eatery". Peek smiled as he walked in. He had read the sign dozens of times on his visits and he always thought is sounded like "Pretty _Unclean_ Spirits and Eatery". Odd, how it was never difficult to get an open table.

Purdy was not just the owner, but the bartender, cook, and server as well. He was a large boisterous man not bound by social graces. He loved life and he loved a good tale. He had the Skull and Cross-Wands tattoo of a wizard who served in war. It was common knowledge that he stormed ashore at Gold, across the channel in '44, and battled with the German wizards and witches in the hills of Normandy, but that was one topic in particular that he never discussed.

A set of wide stairs led down to a long counter with tall stools to the left and tables and booths to the right. Rough-cut stonework framed the booths and supported the ceiling in wide columns. Each booth had a large backlit stained glass picture of a handsome young man or woman in a garden scene from cities around the world, like Brussels, St. Petersburg, Tokyo, and Bakersfield. A dozen oil lamps lit the room with a golden glow and provided a comfortable mood.

"Parker, over here," called a thin frail voice from the far corner of the quiet pub. Millwater was there already, and enjoying an early brandy.

"Peek, my boy!" shouted Purdy upon seeing Peek. "The usual?"

Peek smiled. "I have five knuts left to my name and I'm gonna spend 'em all," he replied in an exaggerated gentlemanly voice. "Your finest hot chocolate my good man - and don't stint on the marshmallows."

"Coming right up, sir!" said Purdy with a wink.

Peek made his way back to Millwater and sat at his table.

"Good afternoon Mr. Millwater," said Peek as he got comfortable on the less-than-comfortable chairs.

"Good afternoon Parker," said Millwater with a smile. "How was your shopping? Did you find everything you needed?"

"I found everything you _said_ I needed, sir. There are still many items on the list…" Peek was playing coy. He saw the box on the chair next to Millwater. The contents looked like everything Millwater had scratched off Peek's list of supplies. They were old and well used, but also a king's ransom to someone like Peek.

"I brought you one of my good cauldrons, gloves, my old work robes, a dozen or so phials…" The old potionist lifted the box up to the table with Peek's help. He rummaged through the contents. "Oh yes, and a set of scales. They are not bronze though. And, you'll need a telescope. No-one I know had an extra they could spare."

"I have one now," said Peek. He reached into his plastic "Walmart" shopping bag, took out the telescope, and placed it on the table just as Purdy arrived with the hot chocolate.

"You'll need one of those," said Purdy as he gestured to the telescope. "You'll spend a lot of time looking up at the stars in your first year."

"So you have said, Mr. UhnKleen," replied Peek with a smile. "You said I would know all the first-year students because they walked around with crooked necks and had the one-eyed squint."

Purdy gave a stout and boisterous laugh. "So I did! So I did!" He gave Peek a squeeze on the shoulder as he placed the hot chocolate down on the table. He felt the gaunt frame between his fingers which was skin and bone with just a hint of muscle. He gave a reassuring smile. "Let me fix you a sandwich, lad. I'll get one last chance to put some meat on you."

"Mr. UhnKleen, I am fresh out of knuts," said Peek matter-of-factly. "I can pay for the chocolate, of course, but after that, it's Hogwarts and whatever fare they can manage." Peek smiled and took a sip from the steaming mug, "The chocolate is delicious sir, as usual."

Purdy smiled. "This one is on 'ol Purdy, don't you worry about that. And, I'll set you up with a little something for the train."

"Sir-" Peek began.

"Don't you go anywhere," interrupted Purdy as he headed back to the kitchen. "Beware of the one-eyed squint!" he shouted to no-one in particular and laughed again. "The One-Eyed Squint!"

Peek smiled.

"Show me the letter again," said Millwater after a short pause to let Purdy settle down. "I wanna see it one more time before you run off and become famous."

Peek smiled, pulled out, and unfolded his Hogwarts letter.

"I remember getting my letter," said Millwater as he took the letter with a smile. "It arrived by screech owl the night before. The crazy thing kept me up all night. Was it an owl waiting to find me at morning light or was it some poor soul catching his end?"

Peek smiled.

Millwater smiled again but it faded.

"Listen, Peek," said Millwater. "I don't think you know how important this is for all of us." He returned the letter to Peek. "This is a time for much-wanted change."

Peek missed the severity cue and laughed instead. "Mr. Millwater, have you been dipping into the "pumpkin juice" again?" He gestured with his fingers to indicate quotation marks.

Millwater gave a patient smile. "The street people like us, like you, were easy marks for the dark lord and his followers. A promising word here, a smidgen of hope there, and a hot meal or two bought him an army of expendables with feeble skills or no skills at all, like the squibs. We were no match against the wizards and witches of the ministry and the aurors, and the other organized bands who chased us down. We fought one big battle on the crest of a hill. We stood our ground, died in droves, Peek, and we were buried there."

"Mr. Millwater, sir, I know all the stories, 'He who must not be named' promised us much, and we tried to do his bidding, but then he was gone, and we lost. Your wife and my mom and dad are buried on that hill."

"And a great many others," said Millwater. "Too many."

"Agreed," said Purdy in a somber voice as he returned with a large sandwich of brisket and grilled garden onions. He patted Peek on the head. "Lest we forget all of them good souls up there."

Millwater sighed. "Peek, those were dark times and good people are still hurt inside from our betrayal and still angry at us. You're the first of our young ones to be called up to Hogwarts but there will be those who won't agree with this. I hope you can be patient with them. They'll come around in time.

"I understand sir," said Peek. "I will."

Millwater brightened. "I cannot say if I am more proud of frightened for you."

"Proud I hope," said Peek with a smile. "I've already made a friend. Well, kind of a friend. She said she and I were special."

"Special," repeated Millwater. "Be careful who you make friends with, Peek, and trust no one who doesn't earn it."

"Yes sir."

"Well then," said Purdy, "Byron, I've set up a bed for you in the back with the stores and you, Peek, can sleep at the hearth, nice and warm." Purdy made ready to leave but Millwater caught him at the arm.

"Do you have time to _join_ us?" asked Millwater but his tone was odd as if conveying a message.

Purdy smiled as recognition dawned. "Oh! I do indeed," he said with a wink. "How's about I fetch that bottle o' brandy?"

Purdy shuffled off and returned with what remained of the brandy in one hand and a sizable box under the other arm. "I almost forgot this!" shouted Purdy. "We took up a collection, me in my pub and Byron over in his shop, and we got you this." Purdy handed over the box to Peek.

"What is it?" Asked Peek, but he knew what it must be. The final item on his list, and not yet present in the collection of supplies, was a robe. The box was the right size for it.

"Open it, open it," said Purdy as he took a seat opposite Millwater. He gave a nod to Millwater who smiled.

Peek opened the box. It was not a second-hand robe. It was not an old hand-me-down robe from someone's kid. It was a brand new robe. It was perfect.

"To Peek!" shouted Purdy as he raised his glass in a toast.

"Here! Here!" added Millwater as he raised his glass.

"To me," added Peek as he raised his hot chocolate mug.

The evening ended when the fire in the fireplace sputtered low and adding another log seemed a waste. Purdy and Peek turned down all the lanterns and Purdy locked the front door. Millwater took the bed in the back storage room as Peek snuggled into the blankets in front of the fireplace. Yes, Purdy had rooms at his inn, but none he would ask his friends to endure.

When all was silent except for the occasional snoring from Purdy's room, Peek sat up in his blankets and quietly pulled a bottle from his pocket. He unstopped it and took a small swig from the contents. The taste was awful which showed in his sour expression. A shiver ran up the full course of his body, from toes to head, and his eyes sprung wide. There would be no sleeping for Peek. He never slept and he used strong potions to ensure this. Instead, he stood and walked the floor, looking into this and that, peering out the windows, and sitting on the steps counting the mice and rats that showed themselves. He retrieved his walnut wand from his box of supplies and waved it around silently as if he was a great wizard doing battle against the death-eaters, with aurors at his side, and a grateful ministry at his back.

When dawn arrived, Peek was starting his second reading of "Magical Drafts and Potions" by Arsenius Jigger.

 **End of Chapter 5**

* * *

Please, please consider leaving a note or review regardless of whether good or bad. I'm 10,000 words in now and no clear idea if I'm just exercising a hobby or if I'm entertaining.


	6. Ch 6 - Mischief on the Hogwarts Exp

**Chapter 6 - Mischief on the Hogwarts Express**

" _I had it and then I didn't. It was just gone, like magic…"_

 _~Crabbe_

* * *

The Hogwarts Express covered the platform in steam as it made ready to leave King's Cross Station. Harry had staged his gear early and walked the platform with Millwater for a time.

"Mr. Millwater, I don't have to go. There is still much to do at the shop. You need me there."

"Pish," said Millwater. "I'll manage. The teas and coffees always sell and I've grown a little fond of muggle food, so I won't starve."

"Mr. Millwater…"

"And," Millwater continued, "we have a good stock of the usual remedies, enough to last until the holidays. For anything difficult, I can order from uptown."

"They'll be more expensive," said Peek. "Uptown is always more expensive.

"They are, but we have some saved. Don't worry about me or the customers, We'll manage."

Peek wasn't convinced but it was often difficult to disagree with Millwater when he had set his mind.

"I really want to go to Hogwarts," admitted Peek. "There is a potionist there who is supposed to be one of the best in all of Europe.

"You are referring to Severus Snape," said Millwater. "You will learn much from him."

"Do you know him?" asked Peek.

"I do," said Millwater. "He sought me out when he was young, for some of my earlier work. Not long ago I received an owl from him asking what I remember of a fellow named Nicolas Flamel."

"Nicolas…," repeated Peek.

"Flamel. He is not only excellent with potions but an alchemist as well, the only real alchemist I am aware of. He's very old and very gifted. The muggles wrote about him in their ancient times."

"Really, like Merlin?"

Millwater smiled. "He's not quite that old, and the muggle writings improved greatly in the time between the two, but yes, like Merlin."

The whistle on the Hogwarts Express locomotive sounded across the platform. It was time for Peek to leave.

"Make us proud," said Millwater as Peek stepped aboard the train. Millwater waved as did hundreds of other family members and relatives and friends. Peek stood near the door looking out and waving not only to Millwater but to everyone there. He was going to Hogwarts. Everything would change for him. And about fifteen minutes later, he would know in which direction that change would go.

The first thing that quickly became annoying for Peek was students looking at his clothes and rumpling their faces. He tried to ignore them but some of the students weren't hiding their comments.

"He looks like a house-elf without the long ears."

"It could be fashion - maybe it's neo-troll."

"Send an owl to the Durmstrangs and tell them we found one of their students."

"Don't get near him especially if your immunizations potions aren't current."

"I bet he's from a filthy gutter and he lived in a cesspool."

"He's a betrayer. He should have died with the rest of them."

The second thing that quickly became annoying was no one letting him into their cabins, even when there was room for him. Word traveled fast - Peek's people, the Ministry Managed, had sided with Voldemort. Peek was only an infant at the time but he bore their sin as if he had taken up a wand himself and took to the streets.

Was Peek saddened at the rejection? Was he ashamed of who he was? No, he was angry. The preppy little sniffs walking about wouldn't last a day in his world. He survived on scraps. He fought muggle kids with his fists and no magic. He fought the Irish muggle kids _with_ magic and still got laid out. He dodged the ministry and the bobs. And a few times, the knife in his outstretched hand was the only thing between him and a cold berth at the muggle morgue.

"I'm not like these people," said Peek with a sigh.

Peek took the last cabin in the car before the Slytherins, who had claimed the last two cars of the train. It was empty and he soon found out why. At random intervals, groups of Slytherins left their cabins and walked up through the train, looking for the weak to bully. Peek should have closed and latched the door.

"What is that stench?" said a loud sneering voice.

The boy that Peek would come to know as Draco Malfoy, and his two thugs, "Thick" and "Thicker", otherwise known as Crabbe and Goyle, stood in the doorway.

"It's me," said Peek with an irritated note of finality. "I'm right here."

Peek stood and sized up the three. He had faced more than this, alone in dark alleys. None of these three looked particularly threatening. All three were bigger than Peek but where he came from, it didn't always matter.

Malfoy only smirked at the scrawny skeleton of a boy standing before him.

It was Crabbe who came at Peek and it was Peek who chose not to stop him. Be patient, Millwater had said, to which Peek said he would.

Crabbe lunged in, grabbed Peek by the collar, and shoved him back down to his seat. Peek struck his head against the far wall.

"Crabbe, come on," said Malfoy. "It stinks in here."

Malfoy left the cabin followed by Goyle.

Crabbe locked eyes with Peek as he ground his fist into his palm. An unspoken threat was given in that cold stare, the kind of silent threat that implies grievous pain for any infractions. Crabbe turned and realized Malfoy and Goyle were gone. A slight tinge of panic spread on his face and he scurried after them.

Peek stood again and rubbed the bump forming on the back of his head. He closed the door and locked it with a loud click. He stepped back to the window and opened it. He didn't think he smelled, but maybe he did. Who knew what pungent aromas followed him up from the gutter? He stood in front of the window for a long while feeling the wind on his face and smelling the city air. He smiled.

"That goon is gonna miss his wand," said Peek. He slid Crabbe's wand out from his sleeve, the same wand he had pulled from Crabbe's belt when Crabbe shoved him. He snapped it in two and tossed the pieces out the window.

Without another thought, he sat back down and unwrapped a brace of home-made cauldron cakes given to him by Purdy. He had taken just two bites of the first cake before Crabbe was back pounding on the door so hard it rattled in its frame.

"This is gonna hurt," said Peek to himself with an air of calmness far from appropriate for the occasion. "Crabbe?" he said with a friendly smile as he opened the door.

"Gimme my wand!" shouted Crabbe.

"I don't have your wand," Peek protested.

Crabbe grabbed him and shook him hard. "Give it to me!".

"I don't have it!" shouted Peek.

Crabbe shoved him up against the wall and punched him in the shoulder.

"Crabbe!" shouted Malfoy. "Leave him. You obviously left it somewhere else. Go check in your robes."

Crabbe was befuddled. He released Peek who slumped to the cabin floor.

"I know he took it," said Crabbe, but Malfoy gestured for him to leave the room.

Malfoy stepped into the room enough to let Crabbe pass by. He glanced around the room on the odd chance he might find Crabbe's wand in the cushions or on the window ledge. He glanced at Peek, too.

"What's your name?" asked Malfoy. If there was any compassion or emotion for someone injured, it did not show.

"I'm Peek." Peek stood and dusted himself off.

"What kind of a name is that?

"It's what people call me. I'm Parker Ferris."

Malfoy paused. "I heard about you. You're the 'Ministry Managed' kid they let in."

Peek shrugged.

"I knew it smelled in here."

Malfoy shook his head in disgust and left the room. He followed Crabbe back to the other Slytherins.

Peek rubbed his sore shoulder and felt the bump on the back of his head again. There were several students gathered at the doorway looking in at him with curious eyes. He closed the door on them and walked slowly back to the window. He leaned back against the wall and slid down it to the floor. He reached into his shirt and pulled out Crabbe's billfold, the one he pinched while Crabbe was shaking him. "And now, he's going to miss this too." Peek opened the billfold. There was a five-galleon banknote from Gringotts Wizarding Bank, a small notepad, and a picture of a woman who was likely his mom; she looked a lot like Crabbe - poor woman.

Peek smiled again. He pitched the billfold and its contents back over his shoulder and out the window. He said to the door, as if Crabbe was standing in front of it, "We can do this all day, Crabbe. What else are you carrying?"

That was the last of the trouble Crabbe gave Peek during the train ride. Sure Crabbe realized his billfold was missing along with the wand, and yes, he thought Peek stole it too, but he was afraid to bring it up in front of Malfoy and the others. He felt like a fool and hoped to avoid having it confirmed.

 **End of Chapter 6**


	7. Ch 7 - Olde Sweat

**Chapter 7 – Old Sweat**

" _Never join a house whose name you cannot spell, for example, Griffindoor."_

 _~ S.S_

 **This is J.K Rowling's world of which I own none, save the books on a shelf upstairs.**

* * *

Peek had never left London before. Everything he saw, beginning minutes away from King's Cross Station, was new to him. He loved the country. He loved the small towns they passed. He loved the rolling hills as they approached the northern regions. He was in perfect awe when the mountains first appeared on the horizon and drew near.

Peek lowered the window further and stuck his head out to get a better view. He was surprised, the air was cooler in the north and he could hear the locomotive far up ahead, laboring a little, as it pulled its burden into the heights. Another student, in the next car up, had done the same as Peek. She was older by at least a year and from what he could tell, wore a Gryffindor colored blazer, red and gold. She pointed here and there and looked to be describing the view to her companions in the cabin with her. After a short while, she looked back and noticed Peek. She smiled at the younger student but then it faded when she recognized him. She disappeared back into her cabin.

"This is really, _really_ getting old," said Peek with a frown.

To his surprise, the same girl popped her head out again. She smiled at Peek which made him wonder at the change. Did she realize that he, Peek, was no different than anyone else? Did she regret her failing at common courtesy to a fellow student, and not just a fellow student, but a young impressionable first year? No, she threw a pudding into the wind and it struck Peek in the face before he could react.

He didn't wait for anything else to be thrown, like rotten vegetables, or something heavy, like an anvil or a muggle bowling ball.

"Chocolate pudding," said Peek as he sat down and cleaned his face with the front of his shirt. "My favorite...". In truth, it was a particular favorite but he intended all due sarcasm with the comment.

The Hogwarts Express arrived at Hogsmeade Station in the early evening, after a long day steaming north. The landing was a sea of students and it wasn't long before the pudding girl found Peek and asked if he'd had enough to eat, which he said he did and thanked her for her consideration. She lost interest and moved on. She was definitely a Gryffindor and so too were her friends.

"First years over here," called a loud booming voice. It was Hagrid swinging a lantern high above like a beacon. Peek was glad to be away from the older students. Too many of them had opinions they were more than willing to share.

Peek gathered with the other first years and found himself standing behind Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Crabbe noticed him almost immediately. Peek smiled when Crabbe pulled his robe in tighter as if guarding what little of value remained on his person.

"Crabbe's wearing nice shoes," thought Peek to himself. "I bet I could get them off him,"

The boat ride across the Black Lake was uneventful except when something massive in the water, he would later learn as being a giant squid, moved underneath them and caused swirls on the water's surface. Peek considered it another grand experience on his new journey while some of the other students, Crabbe and Goyle included, screamed in terror.

The boats moored themselves at the base of Hogwarts. Peek was amazed as he looked up. The city of London was breathtaking at night with its many tall buildings, countless windows, and streetlights all in their rows, but it paled in comparison to the huge mountain top castle with lamps in every window, torches on the walls, and two large bonfires before the gates.

Peek had been distracted by the splendid grandeur of Hogwarts and realized he was the last student left in the boats. Harry Potter was there with his hand out, to help Peek come ashore.

"Thanks," said Peek.

"You're welcome," said Potter.

Ron Weasley was nearby. He nodded a "hello".

The three boys followed the other first years and Hagrid up the steps towards Hogwarts castle.

"I know who you are," said Peek after a while. "You're Harry Potter."

Harry smiled and gave a nod without looking. "I've been hearing that a lot."

"My name is Peek," said Peek. The steps were wide which allowed them to walk three across. He leaned forward to see Ron Weasley on the other side of Potter.

Weasley also leaned forward. "I'm Ron."

"Pleasure," said Peek.

They walked for a while without speaking. Hagrid, the half-giant was at the lead of the procession, and he spoke of Hogwarts and what students could expect in their first years. "I hope you all have your telescopes," said Hagrid with a laugh.

"Beware of the one-eyed squint," said Peek quietly to himself. He smiled at the memory of Purdy the jovial cook with the war tattoo. Purdy didn't have his own owl and paying five knuts was a bit dear for posting mail. It might be a long while before Peek heard from him.

"What was that?" said Potter.

"Oh nothing," said Peek. "Just something I remember."

The students continued their trek up the stairs. Peek was feeling more and more awkward at the silence between them.

"Someone might have mentioned the boats and these stairs before we left the station," said Peek as he exaggerated a stomach ache. "I might have stopped after I ate my first cauldron cake on the train." It was his only cauldron cake. Malfoy or Goyle must have taken the other.

Potter and Weasley brought their hands up to their stomachs in reflex. They had eaten a trolley's load of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Blowing gum, Chocolate frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, licorice wands and everything else that had been present. The rocking of the boats on the lake upset their stomachs and the long hike up the stairs encouraged the contents to vacate upward from whence they came.

At long last, the first years arrived before the entrance to the great hall.

They took a moment to straighten their robes and get "Presentable".

Crabbe was given a pair of shoes because he lost his. Peek was taken aside and given a tie by a fellow named Angus Filch.

"There you are lad," Filch said. "Let's set you up like the rest of them, all gentlemanly." He wrapped the tie around Peek's neck and cinched the knot up under his collar.

Peek recognized Filch as a squib in the first moment he saw him. There was something different about squibs. They lacked a certain glow. They lacked a certain happiness. Many squibs were on the hill with Peek's parents, Millwater, and the others. They had stood shoulder to shoulder with Wizards and Witches, as equals, and died there with them. Filch was not the first squib to help Peek.

Peek noticed tension among the first-years when he returned. Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and a sizable group of students were on the left, facing Potter and Weasley. Potter and Weasley were on the right.

What did I miss?" said Peek as he came up behind Malfoy's group. Several turned around towards Peek, gave a look of disgust, and returned to glaring at Potter and Weasley.

"Oh yes, that's right," said Peek. "I'm not supposed to be here." He threaded his way through the group, brushing past Crabbe, and coming up near Weasley. There was a large potted plant next to the door. Peek tossed one of Crabbe's emerald and silver shirt cufflinks into the Pot. He had almost got the 2nd one.

The first years were paraded up through the center of the great hall and gathered before the waiting professors and other staff. Peek looked around the hall as the sorting hat worked its way through the students alphabetically, starting with Hanna Abbott. He searched the Ravenclaw table for Ivy, Macey, and Gina but could not find them. He searched the Gryffindors for pudding girl and her pals. He looked above at the hundreds and hundreds of floating candles and around at the many stained glass windows. He found the professor who was likely Severus Snape. He looked to the back where Filch stood. Filch had a cat, a Maine Coon if Peek was not mistaken.

"Ferris, Parker" called Professor McGonagall at last. She was the tall witch in green robes, who led them into the hall, and who now stood poised with the sorting hat in her hand. It was clear she noticed the room fall into murmurs upon calling Peek's name. She looked back to the headmaster who nodded for her to continue.

Peek noticed the murmuring too. He would need to get better at ignoring it.

It was time for Peek's sorting. He honestly had no idea which house he preferred. Perhaps Ravenclaw, but it would be for no other reason than Ivy being there. He did not want Gryffindor because of pudding girl, but she was not a "show-stopper". He had been treated worse by better people. He knew little of Hufflepuff or Slytherin. Of the two, he'd rather be sorted into Hufflepuff if no other reason than Crabbe, who had already been placed into Slytherin and was missing his cufflink, his shoes, his billfold, and his wand.

Peek pushed his way through the many first-years who were still waiting to be sorted. He heard Potter say "Good luck".

"Well well, my first challenge of the night," said the sorting hat in a low gravelly voice. "This one is content or so he would have others believe and yet without aspirations. He has a fair brain overall, and a surprise, I think, for one of our professors. He seeks no relations, no friendships, and is brave or coward as the need arises..."

"...and you smell like old sweat," said Peek with annoyance. He was certain he didn't like being appraised by a bewitched, has-been, fashion component.

The sorting hat chuckled. "And defiance in need of proper focus. I think you will find it best in ...Gryffindor!"

The lackluster cheer from the Gryffindor table was noticed by all despite the exuberant cheers of the other three houses whose members rejoiced in not having to suffer the " _betrayer_ " within their ranks.

Peek walked over to the Gryffindor table and sat down at the first empty seat he came upon. He found pudding girl and her pals across the table and a little way down. They were not pleased. They were also part of the Quidditch team.

 **End of Chapter 7**


	8. Ch 8 - Ivy's Plan

I own none of the Harry Potter world.

 **Chapter 8 – Ivy's Plan**

" _Let me know when you are done with your little charity event so we can get back to the things that matter most; makeup, fashion, and boys."_

 _~Macey Gibbons_

* * *

"Looks like you had a bad day," said Ivy Taggart. She was the sixth year who caught Peek trying to steal his school books from Flourish and Blotts bookstore and chased him down in the muggle neighborhood near Diagon Alley.

Peek and Ivy sat across from each other in the great hall. It was the morning of the second day of school. Peek leaned heavily on the table in front of him because he ached all over from sitting silently in a closet all night. Peek never slept and he would have liked to sit in a comfortable chair all night reading, except Percy - The Patrolling Prefect kept a regular vigil for shenanigans.

Peek did not respond. He stared down at the table and traced a long scratch with his finger.

"Talivsa Reparo," said Ivy as she set her index finger upon the table, which caused a dull flash of yellow and the scratch to heal over and vanish. Ivy, like Peek, could perform common spells without a wand. It was an ability that Ivy had called "special" when she and Peek first met.

Peek looked up.

"Who gave you that black eye?"

"I think her name was Katie Bell."

"Did you fight with her? I heard she's pushing for Chaser on your quidditch team. She must be tough."

"No, I didn't fight. It was her and two others and everyone else was watching. I stood and took it. What else could I do?"

Ivy nodded her agreement. "It is probably best. One doesn't make the quidditch team by being a pushover."

Peek let out a heavy sigh.

"Right," said Ivy. "Subject change is in order." She pulled up a backpack from the seat, next to her, and placed it on the table. "I brought you my books like I said I would and I got your backpack from Flourish and Blotts."

Peek rumpled his face. "That's not my backpack."

"Right, I got it, and now it is gone with good riddance. It had a mouse living in it, Peek, and not the happy kind."

"Then, who's is it?" asked Peek.

"It's yours now. Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Did you buy it?"

"No, I stole it." She reached across the table and ruffled Peek's hair. "Of course I bought it."

"Thanks," said Peek. He looked down again.

"Sure, my pleasure..." Ivy frowned as Peek disengaged. If Peek had been one of her little brothers, she would know what to do, and it would start with the demise of Katie Bell. But, Gryffindor was not her house and Peek was just some kid she had tried to help in the past.

Ivy gave a bright smile. "Anyway, here you are sorted into the Gryffindors, right where I wanted to be. Can I call you 'Gryff'?"

Peek shrugged.

"You can call me Raven or 'The Claw'." She leaned over to look up into Peek's face hoping to find a smile or at least the start of one. "Or just RC..."

Peek shrugged again.

"Peek, I'm trying here, but this is mostly a one-sided conversation."

"Why?" asked Peek.

"Why am I trying or why is it a one-sided conversation?" Ivy was being silly.

"Why are you trying? You know who I am. You know what they say about me."

"I know, I know. And, I've told you before, twice I think, I'm muggle-born. _'He who must not be named'_ was here and gone years before I knew any of this world existed. Whatever you or others think you're responsible for was before my time.

But listen to me, Peek. I don't go in with this 'Blood Traitor', 'Blood Honor', 'Blood Sin', business. There is a saying I heard, 'It is best not to weigh the choices made in war with scales made in peace'."

Peek looked up. "I don't know what that means."

"I think it means that people, like perhaps your parents, may have been forced to make tough decisions in tough times. And, who am I, or anyone else, to judge those decisions if we didn't live through those same tough times? Does that make sense?"

Peek nodded.

"Most of the students here are too young to remember _'him'_ ," Ivy continued. "Even the older students were just six or seven years old at the time. I doubt any of them knew 'hard times' as you and your family must have. And I bet most of the parents didn't either. From what I know, they hid in their homes a lot. That's a great deal different than having _nowhere_ to hide."

Peek couldn't disagree. He had lived in doorways, alleys and Mr. Millwater's backroom, off and on, for most of his life. His parents knew no better. Millwater said they spent much of their time looking for work, avoiding the muggle gangs, avoiding mischievous wizards and witches prowling the alleyways for sport, and yes, asking for charity from those who had more. How easy would it have been for the dark lord to coax them to his side?

"But anyway," continued Ivy. "I've thought of a way we can start to fix this."

"Really?" said Peek. But, it wasn't an excited "Really!?" it was a doubting, "Really…?"

"Yes, really," said Ivy with a reassuring smile. "Okay, don't say 'No' until you hear me out, okay?

"Okay," said Peek.

"Good. Do you know who Oliver Wood is?"

"No."

"Well, you should. He's the captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team.

"Oh, _that_ Oliver Wood."

'You know him then?" said Ivy as she brightened up.

"No," said Peek dryly. He was well-aware of saying "No" twice despite Ivy's request.

Ivy sighed and gave a mock-perturbed look. She too was aware of the double negative. "Okay, How about you find out who he is, wait for a quiet moment, and tell him that your friend Ivy, that's me, says her friend Macey, that's her over there scowling at me, likes him."

"How would that help?" Peek wasn't convinced this was a good plan.

"I know they know each other but he doesn't know she likes him. You, with my help, will set up a date between them. They start dating. They're happy. You get in good with the team captain, and maybe the others in Gryffindor follow. Anyway, Macey's fun and she's smart. I know they will like each other. And then, maybe Katie Bell, who I expect listens to Oliver, will leave off the blackening of your eyes."

"So your plan," said Peek, "is to provide Oliver with a love interest and he will be so happy that he what? Tells everyone to leave me alone?"

"Yes." Ivy gave another of her Ivy-like smiles.

"Okay, I'll try it. Anything has to be better than this."

 **End of Chapter 8**

 **I have a solid path I am walking with this story but I'd love to hear your thoughts. Will Peek lose it soon and show Hogwarts what a street kid is made of? Will Peek and Ivy hit it off one day? Why are Seamus and Katie so angry? Will Peek find a time-traveling Terminator locked away in some hidden room - and it's still looking for Sarah Conner? Snape is supposed to be in this story - will he ever get here?**


	9. Ch 9 - Flobberworms?

Chapter 9 - Flobberworms?

" _Is it me or does it sound like toilets flushing when he empties the cauldrons?"_

 _~R. Weasley_

* * *

Please note: The following chapter involves potion brewing. Rather than choose randomly from Pottermore and risk messing with canon and because of the tight writing schedule I am trying to keep, I made many of the ingredients up.

* * *

"Where." said professor Snape as he surprised Peek and Seamus Finnigan," did you get that?"

The Gryffindors and Slytherins had Potions Class together and today was the day they would finally brew. In Peek's hands was a very old cauldron, given to him by Byron Millwater, an old potions master who knew Peek's parents and helped Peek as best he could. The cauldron was so heavily used, it had a hardened residue layer on the inside and along the rim, like the surface of a mottled black pearl, and the handles had long since been rubbed smooth of any design. The outside surface was scarred with nicks and bumps as if it had rolled down a mountainside many times over during the course of a century or two.

"From a friend, sir," said Peek out loud, but in his mind, he thought, "Darn, he's blasted everyone else here. It must be my turn."

"From. Whom." Snape had this little pause he put between words of a sentence, and piercing eyes that could read anything written on the inside of a poor student's skull, or so Peek thought. Either way, it unnerved students greatly, Peek included.

"From…," Peek began but he faltered.

"Yes?"

"From Mr. Millwater, sir. Byron Millwater." There was nothing wrong with identifying Millwater but Snape's severe tone made Peek feel like he was crumbling under an interrogation.

Snape put his hands out and Peek placed the cauldron in them. Snape peered into it and gave a light sniff, he inspected the sides and held it upended.

"You will not use this in class," said Snape. "Put it on the counter."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir."

Peek carefully considered his next question and double-checked it in his mind to ensure he wasn't breaking any known student / scary teacher protocols. He was, after all, without a cauldron and the question needed to be asked.

"Sir, what am I-"

"Use one of the extras," Snape interrupted. He nodded towards a dozen cauldrons stacked in the far corner of the classroom, which were from older students who were so upset over their OWL examination results, they abandoned all and ran.

Peek was paired up with Seamus Finnigan. Both pulled out their brewing supplies but Seamus stepped in close to Peek.

"Whatta you doing?" asked Seamus.

"Getting ready," said Peek.

Seamus pointed to Peek's old potionware. "You're not using those here. Who knows what disgusting things they've been in?"

"I do, mostly," said Peek. "Potions."

"Right, some street codger stirring up cockroaches and mice and you call it potions."

Peek sighed. "Fine, we'll use yours."

" _I'll_ use mine," said Seamus with a scowl. "You keep your mitts off my stuff and stay out of my way."

"Fine," said Peek as he took a step back. "I'm glad we cleared that up."

Seamus Finnigan, like Katie Bell, was particularly hostile to Peek, more than the other students. Sure Peek was 'The Betrayer' and there was never a shortage of related comments, but Finnigan and Bell held some inner anger that Peek expected would one day reveal itself.

Peek left a healthy distance from Seamus and his cauldron failings. Indeed, the whole class failed to meet Professor Snape's expectations. Or rather, they performed exactly as he expected and twice, Snape emptied all the cauldrons with a wave of his wand.

Peek read the assignment in his book, "Magical Drafts and Potions". The recipe was for a Hiccoughing potion which was very similar to one he had brewed many dozens of times. Most of the ingredients were the same. Most of the measures were the same. The stirring and heat varied.

"You're cutting it wrong," said Peek. "It needs to be one strong forward slice all the way through. You can't saw at it."

"How about you be quiet, Pook," said Seamus. A tassidore linden nut was clearly getting the better of Seamus and his frustration was boiling, unlike the cauldron.

"It's 'Peek"," said Peek.

"Whatever."

Peek watched in silence as Seamus muddled his way through the ingredients, cutting, slicing, smashing, and mixing. Snape walked the classroom, declared all of the students work as more miserable than the previous attempts and with another wave of his wand, emptied all the cauldrons.

"Okay," said Peek. "It's my turn now. Go to the cabinet...," Peek pointed to where the potion ingredients were stored, "and get us a pinch of powdered nettle and a bottle of flobberworm mucus - check the dates and bring the freshest."

Seamus hesitated. He didn't like Peek telling him what to do, but frustration over three emptied cauldrons won out. "Okay, Pook. Show us how it's done. And for good measure, I'll go see if there are any dried cockroaches or bottles of mouse crap."

"Just go!" said Peek. "No cockroaches, no mice, just the nettle and flobberworm mucus."

While Seamus was away, Peek added the requisite measure of moon water to the cauldron and the alder-dandelion. He allowed the mixture to simmer for a slow count of thirty. He mixed in the Beckowie mud and the barbed trumpeter root at intervals and stirred per directions. He brought them to a low boil and played with the fire until he got the heat just right.

Seamus returned with the extra ingredients after a long social visit with Dean Thomas. Peek quickly added four drops of the flobberworm mucus. Seamus transferred the pinch of nettle from between his fingers to Peek's. Peek was just about to add it to the mix when Snape appeared again.

"What. Are. You doing?"

Uugh! Peek hated the way Snape talked. He sounded like a condescending ministry agent.

"Sir, I added the flobberworm because something is different with the mud. It smells like cedar bark and it doesn't thicken like it's supposed to. And, the trumpeter root seems old so I'm just adding a little nettle.

"Mr. Ferris, was flobberworm or nettle on the list of ingredients?"

"No sir," said Peek. He let out a sigh as he watched the cauldron simmer. The colors were changing from blue to green. Snape couldn't have arrived at a worse time.

"Mr. Finnigan, consult your book. Is flobberworm or nettle written anywhere on the page?"

Seamus made it look like he was checking but everyone in the room, Seamus included, knew the needed ingredients by repetition and Peek's added ingredients weren't there. "No sir," said Seamus.

Peek waited for the cauldron to be emptied as it had been several times before. He was distracted. The liquid in the cauldron was nearing its zenith shade of green. The potion was so close to being done, a moment or two delay might cause a miss during a pivotal transition.

Snape paused in thought. It was an eternity to Peek. Poor Seamus quaked. The whole of the class was silent as if drawing one breath and holding it.

"Continue," said Snape as he turned and walked away to terrorize other students.

Peek dropped the pinch of powdered nettle into the cauldron and dove for Seamus' pewter spoon. He quickly gave three counter-clockwise stirs to the liquid, watched, and waited.

Minutes later and with a drop of variegated zuzu extract for texture, the potion was completed.

"We did it," said Peek with a broad smile.

"It's done?" asked Seamus. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," said Peek. He gave the cauldron a light sniff. "It's a good one too. It's almost perfect, I think. Do you want to try it?"

Seamus looked with horror and disgust. "No, I don't want to try it. I wouldn't trust anything from you."

Peek shook his head and shrugged. He dipped a ladle into the concoction and drew out a small amount. With one gulp, he downed the potion. He didn't have the hiccoughs so nothing happened.

When Snape next waved his wand to empty the cauldrons in cruel implication of first-year incompetency, the contents of Peek's and Seamus' cauldron remained.

At the end of class, Snape took a small sample from Peeks' and Seamus' cauldron, after which he ordered a cleaning of the cauldrons, utensils, and tables and an orderly restocking of the leftover ingredients.

"Mr. Ferris, you will see me tonight, here, after your classes, four o'clock. Do not be late."

Peek gulped. "Yes sir."

All eyes fell upon Peek. Students parted as he walked from the room like one condemned. The school year had barely started and Peek drew his first detention.

"Flobberworm and nettle?" said Seamus outside the classroom. "You almost got us both in detention"

I don't understand," said Peek. "We got it right…"

"But you didn't follow the instructions, did you? You didn't follow the rules. You didn't do what you _should_ have done and I almost paid for it." Seamus scoffed. "Go back to the gutters, Betrayer. You're not wanted here."

Seamus knocked the books out of Peek's hands and stormed away.

"That was not appropriate," said Hermione Granger as she, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley exited the classroom behind Peek. Potter and Weasley helped gather up Peek's books.

"No, it wasn't but I'm getting used to it," said Peek as he stooped for his books "Thanks Harry. Thank Ron."

"You were awesome with that potion," said Weasley. "You were the only one who finished."

"Seamus helped," said Peek.

"He really didn't," said Potter. "He talked to Dean while you did all the work. I saw it."

Peek shrugged.

"Peek," said Hermione, "We're going to the library. Did you want to come with?"

Peek noticed a subtle change in Potter and Weasley. They exchanged glances as if a near-silent alarm had just sounded. It could have been anything - lots of students went to the library. But, there was a secret in there somewhere; something better left hidden.

"Thanks, but no," said Peek. "I have a lot I need to do before the next class."

 **End of Chapter 9**


	10. Ch 10 - Advance to Level 6

**Chapter 10 - Advance to Level 6**

" _Would I see a thestral if I've eaten Mrs. Cackleberry's creamed liver and lima-bean loaf? It's almost the same as death..."_

 _~Peek Ferris_

* * *

 **As a reminder - I do not own any part of the Harry Potter World**

* * *

"Professor Snape, sir, I am here," said Peek as he arrived at the dungeon classroom and knocked lightly on the door frame. Snape was seated at his desk wreathed in smoke from an oily burner "Sir, if it was about the flobber-"

"That is not why I called you here." Snape stood and stepped to the table nearest to him. A cauldron sat upon it, a set of knives laid out in order, a mortar and pestle, long-handled spoons, and a set of measuring scales.

"Come here," ordered Snape. "Consider these instructions carefully. Do not assume they are correct. Brew this potion."

Peek crossed the classroom to the table, opposite of Snape. Snape slid the hand-written recipe to Peek who took it up and read the title.

"Thestral Wart Remover? What is a Thestral?"

"It is a winged horse," said Snape as he returned to his desk. "Reptilian."

"Oh. And this is for _warts_?" replied Peek. He looked around the room. "Sir, what happened to bewitching the mind and ensnaring the senses? And, the whole bottling fame business?"

Snape did not respond but instead breathed a heavy breath.

"Right," said Peek. "Brew the potion. Right away."

Peek reviewed the recipe starting at the top and working his way down. His finger trailed along but stopped midway through the ingredients.

"Tubor Alkaya is really strong and there is nothing here to balance it with. These thestral-things better be the size of elephants."

"No. The winged _horses_ are - not surprising - the size of horses."

"Professor Snape, this potion will kill them. Dead."

Snape sighed deeply, which to the untrained ear might have sounded like a growl.

"First years," muttered Snape under his breath. "Mr. Ferris," he said in a much louder voice. "As I said, consider these instructions carefully. Do. Not. Assume they are correct."

Snape added his little pauses between words again but not as much as when he taught in class. Peek wondered why. Was it an intimidation technique? Maybe it was stress? Peek would watch for a twitching eye next time Snape spoke.

"Yes sir," said Peek.

Peek took the recipe to the ingredients cabinets and measured out sizable portions of each, including a quart of Napoli dew water. If Snape flushed Peek's work, he'd be ready for a retry.

Back at the table, Peek poured the dew water in the cauldron to start the potion's base. To it he added elder serpentine vine extract, distilled borenthial port, and flugger weed milk. He had worked many times with these ingredients and had a feel for how much of each he should use. These were the easy ones. He could be a little wrong without affecting the outcome. He lit the burner underneath the cauldron, waited for a light boil, and made the requisite stirs, first clockwise and then counter-clockwise.

While the base thickened, he went back to the cabinets and retrieved an hourglass. He chopped up three portions of the aged petrivascal rind, instead of two which the recipe called for.

"Crush the cold-water kelp buds into a fine pulp?" Peek rumpled his face.

Instead, Peek cut up the kelp buds along the seams and expressed the nodal juice. Nobody in their right mind crushed cold-water kelp buds anymore. The dark ages were in part, called the 'dark ages' because of crushed cold-water kelp buds. It's a long tale.

"Professor Snape, did you write this recipe?" asked Peek.

"No."

Peek nodded a relief. "That's encouraging…", he said under his breath.

"What?" said Snape irritably.

"Oh, I said um, does your eye twitch often?"

"Focus. On. Your. Work." growled Snape.

Peek continued cutting, chopping and slicing the ingredients while adjusting the cauldron heat as if it was a living thing requiring constant care. He spun in place two times to disturb any forming patterns. This wasn't in the instructions. It was a tip to anyone brewing an unfamiliar draft. "Never let routine spoil the day" as Mr. Millwater would say.

Snape noticed the many heating adjustments Peek made, the extra petrivascal rind, the kelp pods, and the turning in place. This wasn't an average student. Peek wasn't just well-learned, he was gifted.

Peek flipped over the hourglass, also not called for in the recipe, and began adding the remaining ingredient including only half of the Tubor Alkaya. At this point, the recipe instructions were useless. The remaining stirs were critical but Peek made them by 'gut feeling'. The stirs given in the original recipe might have worked in the summer when days were longer and the angle of the sun's rays was less severe. Stirring technique was less important and one might get away with a sloppy hand during that part of the year. But in the autumn? Never. Whatever was concocted might have removed thestral warts...along with the thestral.

"Sir, have you ever thought about getting a puppy?"

"Mr. Ferris!"

"Potion! Right!" said Peek. "It's almost done."

After twenty more minutes, the potion was done just as the final grain of sand fell in the hourglass. Peek ladled out a small amount into a clear flask and swirled it. All the ingredients had dissolved. The liquid was a smooth milky yellow. The recipe had not indicated the final color but judging by what went into the cauldron, this was the color Peek expected.

"Sir, it is finished," said Peek with a deep breath.

Peek was not serving detention, he was in a test. Correcting the errors was part of the test. But what was the motive? The great Potions Master, Professor Severus Snape could whip up the same potion blindfolded and he wouldn't have to spin in place, not even once. Why did Snape have Peek brew the curative? Where were these 'thestrals' and did they even have warts?

Snape approached the table like a rabid hawk swooping in on a helpless fawn, callous and indifferent, talons bared and flames like the devil, in its eyes. Or at least it was the feeling Peek was starting to work into. Maybe it wasn't stress that bothered the professor. Maybe it wasn't the need for extra bran in his diet, which Peek chose not to suggest. Maybe he was just angry.

In truth, Snape didn't swoop in at all. He merely stood and strode over without a word spoken.

Snape took the flask from Peek's hand and swirled it in the light just as Peek had done, just as Mr. Millwater had done countless times. Snape gave it a light sniff.

"Mr. Ferris, I will be pulling you from your first-hour potions class because there is nothing you will learn there. You will be joining my sixth-year students during your fifth hour. Is this understood."

"Yes sir," said Peek. He did not have a class during his fifth hour so it was an even trade, but it was far from understood. "What should I do for first hour?" asked Peek.

"You will take it as a free period for personal study or homework. You can sit in the Great Hall, your dorm, or the open lab down the hall.

"Yes, sir." Peek was stunned. He knew his work with Millwater gave him an edge on his classmates but Snape was setting high expectations if he thought Peek could be successful with students five years older than him.

"When you are done gawping," said Snape, "pour out six flasks of five ounces each, clean up your work, and walk the flasks down to the groundskeeper. He will be expecting them."

"Sir, I don't know where the groundskeeper is."

"Ask. Someone."

"Yes, sir."

Peek found Hagrid's large stone hut as the sun set between the distant mountain peaks and night drew near. He had met the half-giant briefly, outside Ollivanders. Hagrid was with Harry Potter who had just purchased his wand. Peek was just about to purchase his own.

Peek delivered the thestral wart removal potion as directed.

"Mr. Hagrid, Professor Snape says thestrals are the size of horses," said Peek, making conversation as his small hands placed the six stoppered flasks in the groundskeeper's huge hands.

"They _are_ horses when it comes down to it," said Hagrid in his loud booming voice. "Beautiful beasts, thestrals are, and one of the single most misunderstood of creatures. They're not pretty to look at if you can see 'em mind you, but they're kind and gentle."

"Wait, why wouldn't I be able to see them?" asked Peek.

"Well, not everyone can," replied Hagrid.

"Are they invisible, sir?"

"Well, sort off. It's an understanding of the mind. Those who've been hurt in a way, can see 'em."

"Hurt in a way?"

"Well…," began Hagrid but he hesitated. Thestrals could be seen by those who had witnessed and understood death - it was not a healthy topic to discuss with young first-year students. Peek's small size made it seem even more inappropriate.

"Sir, I've been hurt before. I was cut with a knife once. Can I try to see them?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea. It's not really physical hurt..." The topic was clearly getting awkward for the giant man.

Peek realized what Hagrid was trying not to say. Peek had seen death many times over; the homeless caught outdoors in winter, the poor with their blood spilled over the small change in their pockets, and the neglect that wore away the spirit and left the body to waste away.

"I think I understand, Mr. Hagrid," said Peek in a lowered voice. "I'll leave it at that. But perhaps you can tell me if the potion works out for them. I made it."

"You made this?" said Hagrid as he indicated the flasks in his hand. He welcomed any subject change.

"Yes sir, I did. Professor Snape was testing me. He is putting me in with his sixth-year class."

"Blimey," said Hagrid. "I've ne'er 'eard of that before. You must be a fair hand at it."

Peek reddened at the compliment. "Brewing I can do, Mr. Hagrid. The rest of my classes are tough."

Hagrid nodded. He remembered his struggles in the same classrooms. "How about you leave off the 'Sirs' and the 'Mr. Hagrid' and just call me 'Hagrid' like the rest."

Peek smiled. "Okay."

Hagrid smiled too. "I'll let you know how this works out. Thestral warts are common enough, but left untreated, can be irritating for the poor creatures." Hagrid looked up at the darkening sky. "Now then, you best be off. It's late."

"Yes, sir. Yes, _Hagrid_." Peek corrected.

Peek considered his move to the new class as he followed the path back up to the castle. The evening dew set early. The stones were slick and the grass soaked Peek's shoes and socks through to the skin. The sun was gone and a crescent moon arose to fill the void.

He considered the thestrals too. Indeed Peek knew death. He had no doubt he would see them if given the chance and in some way would be a kindred soul. But in that moment, with the thought of new and exciting challenges awaiting him, when the raw mountain air filled his lungs, and the light chill breeze raised the hair on his arms, he felt alive for the first time in a long while. He stepped off the path, far away from casual discovery. He sat on a small stone outcropping with his back to the castle and its many lights. A thousand mountains lay in silhouette before him with the vastness of the world behind them. It was here he stayed for the whole of the night. And in the weeks to come, he could be found there often.

 **End of Chapter 10**


	11. CH 11 - A Cauldron in the Rough

NWFairyGodmother - Thank you for the thorough response and well-timed encouragement. I'll leave out the Terminator - promise. (from Ch 8) :)

Thank you Treebrooke! (Ch 8)

Son of Whitebeard - I'm sure Thestrals have nice personalities. (Ch 10)

* * *

Remember - Ms. Rowling, etc. owns all of this. No rights implied whatsoever. If her next big character is named "Peek", so be it.

* * *

 **Chapter 11 - A Cauldron in the Rough**

"… _And when I was very young, I used it like a chamber pot – I wasn't supposed to, but it was convenient."_

 _~Peek_

* * *

"Peek what are you doing here?" asked Ivy.

Ivy Taggart had noticed the quiet little first-year student slip into the class of sixth-year students. She knew Peek struggled with his studies in his first year at Hogwarts and with acceptance by the other students. Hoping to avoid his embarrassment, she had rushed to him with the expectation of helping him out of the room and off to his next class. All four houses; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, were in attendance. These were the students, like Ivy, with strong OWL grades and a desire for further potions knowledge. All of them fell silent and watched.

"I'm supposed to be here. Professor Snape moved me to this class."

"This is advanced potions, Peek. Are you sure you've got the right one?"

Peek nodded.

Ivy looked around the class. The Hufflepuffs looked curious, her fellow Ravenclaws looked dubious, Peek's fellow Gryffindors looked incredulous, and the Slytherins looked reviled.

"Okay, come with me," said Ivy.

Ivy led Peek to her table. There were three Ravenclaws in the class, which included Ivy. The other two had paired up so Ivy sat alone at her own table - this was in part a punishment from Professor Snape because Ivy talked a great deal during lectures.

"What's he doing here?" said Syrell Mortise to Ivy as he stepped up to her table. He was a Slytherin. Peek didn't know him but he seemed to know Peek.

"Hey twerp, the garbage swill is off the kitchen," said Syrell. "Why don't you go play with your own kind?"

Dragga Lochler, the other Slytherin, gave a laugh.

"That's enough Syrell," snapped Ivy. "Snape moved him to our class."

"Here's a thought," said Dragga. "How about I move him out the front gate."

"Dragga. Stop," said Ivy with a stern tone. She looked for help from the Gryffindors but their expressions had not changed. In their opinions, the sorting hat got it wrong. Peek was an embarrassment for them.

"It wasn't my choice," said Peek to Syrell and Dragga. "You should talk to the professor."

"Don't tell us what we should or shouldn't do," growled Dragga.

"Wait a minute. What is that?" Syrell looked past Peek and Ivy to the counter behind them. Peek's cauldron, the one he received from Mr. Millwater, was still where he had set it.

"No way…" breathed Dragga.

All eyes clicked to the cauldron. Ivy turned around in place out of curiosity. Syrell skirted the table followed by Dragga. The Gryffindors, Markus, Devlin, and Karyll, quick-stepped over. Bethie and Mavry, the Hufflepuffs, followed. Calvin and Pontrice, the other Ravenclaws, skirted the table, opposite of Syrell.

Syrell picked up the cauldron as if it was a precious relic, which it was.

"It's a Donlevy cauldron…" breathed Syrell. "I'm holding a Donlevy."

The students gathered around tighter. Karyll touched it as if she needed to confirm it was actually there.

Bethie shook her head in disbelief. "There aren't but three known in existence."

"There's a fourth now," said Calvin, "and I'm looking right at it."

"I bet potions brew themselves in it," said Ivy. She ran her fingers over the pearl-like inside surface.

Everyone forgot about Peek until he spoke.

"No," said Peek. "You still have to brew the potions like in any other cauldron."

...And right back to Peek - all eyes.

"Peek...?" said Ivy.

"What?" said Peek. "It's just a cauldron. Professor Snape won't let me use it here."

"This is yours?" asked Syrell but his tone sounded like an accusation.

Peek nodded.

"That's not just a cauldron, mate," said Karyll. "That's a _Donlevy_ cauldron, said to have been commissioned by Merlin himself."

"Crafted by an unnamed cauldron smith," said Calvin, "but regarded as unequaled in her ability,"

"Steeped in primal magic long before the pollution of the modern sciences," said Devlin.

"And named 'Donlevy' for the researcher who acquired one in 1738," said Mavry. "Lario Donlevy literally gave his life to studying them. He wrote the book that set cauldron standards for all of Europe, Canada, and the States, based on one of these."

"Nicolas Flamel has one," said Bethie after a pause, "and we all know what he made." The older students nodded their agreement.

Of course, Flamel created the Philosopher's Stone (called the "Sorcerer's Stone" by some), any potions master or alchemist 'hopeful' would know this. Peek had never heard of the man or whatever he made, but chose to remain silent rather than reveal his ignorance. Instead, he rumpled his face. The student's comments sounded like an advertisement for a cheap knut novel or for candy, like Merlin's Mellow Magical Mints.

"...And brought to you by Keebler elves," said Peek to himself. "And, we all know what they make - cookies."

"Kid, I'll give you a hundred galleons for it," said Markus.

"I'll give you a thousand for it," pushed in Dragga.

Pontrice snorted. "I'll give you ten thousand for it, Ferris, and I'll have a banknote in your hand by morning." Pontrice's family was rich.

"Peek, it's priceless," said Ivy, "don't agree to any of this."

"But Ivy, I'm not allowed-," started Peek.

"The. Cauldron. Is no longer Mr. Ferris'." The students jumped as Snape made his presence known. He stood just inside the door. "The Ministry of Magic will be taking possession of it."

The class was stunned into silence.

"I'm not allowed to have wealth," said Peek. "None of my people are."

"Oh Peek…," said Ivy. "I don't know what to say."

Peek shrugged. He smiled. Someone had to.

"Continue with your assignments," ordered Snape as he swept through the class, to his desk.

"That's messed up," growled Syrell under his voice. He set the cauldron back down on the counter, with reverence. "The Ministry shouldn't get something like this, no matter the reason."

Lesser Slytherins would have laughed at Peek's incredible misfortune but the smarter ones, like Syrell, recognized the Ministry's overreaching use of power when opportunities arose.

"It's not about the cauldron, Syrell, it's about Peek," hissed Ivy. "The whole thing is unfair."

Syrell nodded. "Yeah, I get it, Taggart, you're right. But the kid brought it _here_ , to Hogwarts. If he can't keep it then it should at least stay _here_ , at Hogwarts. Think about it - Brewing an 'effing potion in a Donlevy cauldron. If that's not a milestone in our lives, I don't know what is."

Ivy sighed in frustration. There was no way to change a snake's scales unless you're willing to skin the damn thing.

"Let me handle this," said Pontrice, also in a low voice. "Peek, if you're willing to sell it to me, my parents will make it happen."

The students returned to their tables. Ivy pulled out the chair next to her, indicating Peek should sit at her table.

"It was a gift," said Peek to Ivy. "Even if they weren't taking it, I couldn't sell it without talking to Mr. Millwater first. It would be his decision."

"Sure Peek, but ten thousand galleons is a whole lot of cheddar," said Ivy with a smile.

Peek smiled. "Yes, for an old pot I've washed my socks in."

Ivy shook her head and elbowed Peek in the arm. "I weep for you Peek, I really do."

Ivy spread out her spoons, knives, scales and other brewing items on the table before her. "Let's see what you got," said Ivy as she gestured to Peek's pack. "Maybe you have some fascinating turn-of-the-millennium bulb-skinner or something."

"I don't think so," said Peek as he set out his potionware items.

Ivy scanned the antiquated tools and picked up a two-pronged fork that should have had three. "Yeah, I don't think so either. We'll use mine."

Ivy retrieved her cauldron from its nook on the far shelf.

"Okay, enough about your Donlevy cauldron," said Ivy when she returned. "Why are you here?"

"I'm kind of good at this," said Peek in a low voice. He looked around to make sure no one was listening.

"Potions?"

"Yes."

"Are you really good or just 'kind of good'? Because, there is a difference, you know."

"I'm really good," said Peek with a level tone.

"Oh," said Ivy with a pause. She didn't expect such a direct response. "Okay. Did you take a test? Like an OWL?"

"I don't know what an OWL is but I brewed a Thestral Wart Remover potion for the Professor, yesterday. It came out okay."

"'Okay' doesn't get you into this class. You must have done well."

Peek nodded his agreement. He did do well. The recipe was wrong and he fixed it. He had never brewed it before, but knew from the ingredients what needed to be done, down to the final stirs.

"Okay…" said Ivy with a note of confused acceptance. "Well, that's good to know, my little friend, since I started an 'Elixir of Life' potion over the summer. You can help me with it. Do you know it?"

Peek knew it. The Elixir of life was an Azkaban-level restriction back on the streets. No one from the Ministry wanted Peek's lot to live any longer than was absolutely necessary, or so it seemed at times. "I've heard of it."

"I drew the 'Elixir of Life' potion when we got our summer assignments. Pontrice got the polyjuice and Calvin got Skele-grow. Syrell got 'Shadow of Death', _of course_. Your Gryffindor friends got Felix Felicis as a team project - you know - 'Liquid Luck'? The tall fellow is Devlin Worth. Have you met him yet?"

Peek shook his head "no."

He's the only seventh year still in potions, so he takes his classes with us, but with extra studies. The great clod is supposed to be smart - smarter than the rest of us, so the other Gryffindors got screwed with the massively tough project. Their Liquid Luck is more like Molten Mess."

Peek smiled. He had no reason for loyalty to Gryffindor. Ivy was welcome to say what she would about them.

"Well then, genius," said Ivy with a quick subject change. She slid her cauldron in front of Peek. "How does it look so far?"

"I never said I'm a genius."

"Just look in the pot," said Ivy.

Peek looked at the contents in Ivy's cauldron. Hers seemed a little like "Molten Mess" too. "Can I see the recipe?"

Ivy pulled out the recipe from her pack and gave it to Peek.

The Elixir of Life potion took ten weeks to prepare for and brew. Much of the work was done in steps to allow for proper thickening and curing and such. Peek was familiar with most of the ingredients on the list including the ones that seemed out of place.

"This doesn't seem right."

"How do you mean?" said Ivy.

"Well, for one, the pickled solvey garlic is a retarding medium. Everything needs to work together and I see nothing that works with it. There should be, I don't know, aspirated harpy ginger, or longthal pod lining, or luvial cider-vinegar - something unstable that the medium controls."

"Pillerated. Belladonna," said Snape in his pausing style of speech. He had his back to Peek and Ivy while standing at the next table over and turned to face them. "The solvey garlic is for the pillerated belladonna. Mr. Ferris, do not question these instructions."

"Yes, sir. I won't sir," said Peek with a loud gulp. "Ummm, not anymore."

Snape grumbled. He looked over at the three Gryffindors struggling with their assignment. Peek should be with them; he should be with his own house. But, the older students were struggling, which was no small amount of joy for Snape, and Peek being shunted to the side and out of the way by his own house members would be no better off than the class of first years he just left.

"Mr. Ferris, you and Miss Taggart will team up on this assignment." Snape tapped the recipe in Peek's hand, with his wand. The words vanished and others appeared. The page elongated to fit more instructions.

Snape peered into the cauldron and gave his obligatory sniff. "Perhaps the two of you can find a way to correct this imminent failure."

"Ouch," said Peek under his breath "That hurt."

"Get used to it," said Ivy under hers.

Snape gave a quick scan of Peeks potionware; a longer scan than when Peek was with his first-year's class. Peek was in an advanced class now, where precision instruments and utensils might make the difference between success and the all-too-familiar flushing sound of a cauldron voiding its contents. He gave a snort and moved on to the next table.

Peek handed the recipe back to Ivy. "Do you have to start over?"

"' _We'_ can't," said Ivy. "We'd need another six weeks to ready the ingredients. "No, look, the first part is the same all the way down to here." Ivy ran her finger down through the first third of the page. It's still an Elixir of Life potion, I think, but much more complicated."

Peek skipped to the end. "Hey, it's Essence of Dittany. Look at this part at the end, 'Skim hazel-colored fluid as it surfaces. Allow cooling. The successful draft, _Essence of Dittany_ , will present with a clear emerald color, with spirited effervescence, and a scent of Spring in the mountains of Greece."

Ivy smiled. "I've seen Essence of Dittany used before. It's powerful. If this was a game of Dungeons and Dragons, we'd call it a Potion of Super Healing."

Peek rumpled his face. "Dungeons and Dragons?"

"It's a muggle game." Ivy knew of it because she grew up muggle. Dungeons and Dragons was her father's creative outlet. Her 'character' was the stereotypical elf princess who was denied her throne by a conniving uncle.

"Dungeons? And Dragons? It sounds Medieval."

"It is, mostly. Years ago, an American wizard named Gary Gygax wrote a bunch of books about our world, disguising it as a 'role-playing game'. He didn't get in trouble because the American magical congress didn't have an actual law against it. They do now, of course, but too many muggles had played the game, and memory wiping was not practical."

"Gary…?"

"Gygax. You've never heard of him?"

Peek shook his head "No".

"It's kind of how the story-teller, J. R. R. Tolkien got away with it over here. In fact, I think Gygax took his lead from Tolkien. You've heard of him, right? Tolkien?"

Again, Peek shook his head. "I don't think so. Does he own the Quill & Parchment shop on Adler?"

"Tolkien?"

"Yeah, Mr. Tolkien. He bakes a lot. It always smells good over there."

"No, that's someone else, I'm sure."

"Really? Because, a quill and parchment store sounds like a good front for illicit story writing."

"It's not…!" Ivy measured her breath before continuing. "It's not the same man – Tolkien died years ago."

"Oh," said Peek. "Fine."

"Fine," said Ivy."

"By the way," continued Peek, "your cauldron needs two pinches of Gongolese Petrium because you must have stirred after the Murker dust instead of after the salent hook brine."

"What?"

"The color is wrong. You didn't stir right. I've seen it before."

Ivy sighed. "No, I stirred right, but I used the wrong spoon. I'd already started when I realized the mistake. I know the color is off. I was afraid that was the problem."

Peek nodded. "The wrong spoon would do that too. Sorry, I should have known that."

Ivy didn't agree. A first-year barely knew how to tie shoelaces. The stirring qualities of a silver spoon verses a copper spoon was third or fourth-year knowledge. Knowing the results of using the wrong spoon over the other was a matter of experience - many trials and many errors. "So what does the Gongolese Petrium do? I've never worked with any of them."

"It's a complimenting ingredient for the hook brine and some other things. It's in some of the no-stir recipes for when wizards and witches lose their arms."

"...Which happens a lot in this work," said Ivy with a nod.

"Yeah, a lot, I guess."

"So, you're sure on the _Gongolese_ , right? Not Spartum or Melusatipia or one of the others?

"For hook brine? Definitely Gongolese."

"...Because Snape is pretty unforgiving when you're wrong."

"I'm positive. it corrects stirring mistakes if caught early enough. It's the only one."

"Okay," said Ivy. She looked for Snape who was over at the Gryffindor table.

"Professor Snape," called Ivy across the room. "We'd like to use two pinches of Gongolese Petrium for the hook brine. May we continue?"

The Gryffindor's so-called "liquid luck" had melted through its cauldron and the table below it. Snape turned from a satisfying round of Gryffindor-bashing to consider Peek and Ivy. Ivy was clever but not that clever. His eyes settled on Peek for a moment extra. Gongolese Petrium was a surprising if not an excellent choice. "Continue."

* * *

 **End of Chapter 11**

 **As always - please consider writing a comment before you click away to your next reading.**


	12. Ch 12 - Oliver is Late

**Tender eyes beware. Ivy drops the F-Bomb. Twice.**

* * *

 **Chapter 12 Oliver is Late**

" _She's muggle-born. Their swear-words are better than ours."_

 _~young unnamed student to a young unnamed student._

* * *

Letter to Mr. Millwater from Peek:

 _Mr. Millwater,_

 _How are you? I am fine. I miss all of you a lot. History is hard and so is Transfiguration. I don't think I should turn living things into cups anymore. Bad things can happen. The transfiguration teacher is an animagus. She can turn into a cat. I remember your friend who turned into a lobster whenever he was nervous._

 _I am doing well in 6th year potions. Our essence of dittany is almost complete. Ivy and I are heads of the class, I think. Professor Snape does not spend much time at our table, which is good._

 _I got your note on the cauldron. I showed it to one of the students. Her name is Hermione Granger. She did some research. She thinks you are related to the Galheims near Kent, which might be why your family had the cauldron. She said Alberreck the Green was a great potionist in the 1330s._

 _I spoke to Pontrice Westenbrooke again. His father may owl you soon. You should call him Lord Westenbrooke if you write to him or meet._

 _I have to go now. It is very late and Percy Weasley has caught me out of bed again. He is standing right here while I'm trying to finish this. He is tapping his foot. He is annoying._

 _Goodbye for now. Please say hello to Mr. UhhKleen for me._

 _Parker_

* * *

"So, how is my plan to hook up Oliver Wood with my friend Macey, doing?

Ivy sat in front of Peek and peered into his face, she was too close and it made him uncomfortable. She reached up with her hand to pull away the hair from his forehead. There, a deep, thick, scratch glistened at the hairline. She forced his head over to see the purple bruise on the side of his face.

"Ivy, stop it...," protested Peek.

"Katie Bell did this?" said Ivy as she let him go.

Peek nodded. "She hit me again and I think it was her bracelet that made the scratch."

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Not really. I guess my shoulder a little. That's usually where she punches me - my shoulder and my arm."

Ivy frowned. Something needed to be done about Bell. Someone in Gryffindor should do the right thing, if Not Oliver Wood. Percy Weasley was a student prefect. She might talk to him about it. Maybe a conversation with Professor McGonagall was in order.

"I found out a little more about her," said Ivy. "Her mom's cousin worked for Security at the Ministry. He was killed by a Death Eater when _'You Know Who_ " was in power."

Peek thought about it for a long moment. "So why does she take it out on me? I'm not a death eater. No one I know is a death eater."

"I'm sure that is true, but really Peek, you're a physical reminder to Katie. What your people did-"

"Yes?" interrupted Peek with a flash of anger.

"What your people did was unforgivable by people like Katie. The death eaters are gone - they took off their masks and slinked back to the shadows. Or some, I heard, claimed to have been under the Imperius curse. Do you know what that is?"

"Yeah." Peek knew what it was. There was a similar back-alley version that witch and wizard thieves used on muggles. It was less intrusive and shorter lasting. Its use was punishable by the ministry but wasn't "Unforgivable" in the unforgivable curse sense.

"Your people couldn't hide or didn't have excuses like others. They were rounded up, tried in the courts, and convicted as a whole." Ivy sighed. "I think people look for someone to blame when they are hurt. Your people are convenient. I cannot know how dear the cousin was to Katie's mom. Katie, of course, couldn't have remembered him. But, she need only step into your commons room, have a look at you, and be reminded of the injury to her family."

"So I should go…"

"What? No. Are you daft?" Ivy smacked peek on the top of the head. "It's Katie's problem, it's been ten years and she needs to move on. Goodness Peek. You need to stick to the plan. Let's get Oliver and Macey together and see how it plays out with Katie."

* * *

And on that very night…

Wood walked into the commons room covered in mud from a tumble off his broom, beyond the spectator stands, and out by the swampy recess. The Gryffindor quidditch team was running formation sprint drills. Witnesses called his fall, "epic". Wood face-planted at speed and carved a furrowed deep into the turf, twenty meters long, ending in the thick reeds.

His misfortune was Peek's fortune. Contrary to the usual throng of teammates and admirers, Wood walked alone, sloshing mud and smelling of stagnant water and soggy peat.

"Oliver, can we talk?" asked Peek as he crossed the commons room.

"I'm a little busy at the moment," said Wood. He held out his arms as if Peek failed to notice the patches of algae and weeds clinging to him.

"Do you know Macey Gibbons?"

Oliver frowned and gave a sigh. "Yes…but look, now's not-"

"She likes you."

Oliver continued the frown. "Macey Gibbons likes me?"

Peek nodded. "Yes, and she'll be in the great hall this evening. She may already be there. I'll introduce you."

"You know her?"

Peek nodded again. "I do."

Oliver thought for a moment while a dribble of mud ran down his cheek. "Look, I need to go. I don't have time for whatever this is." Oliver looked around for a co-conspirator, someone who might have put the little first year up to a less-than-appropriate prank.

"Could you just come down with me anyway?" Peek frowned. "Or are all of you quidditch players so damn thick."

"What?" said Oliver. He raised an eyebrow.

Peek was already in the 'outs' with one Gryffindor quidditch player, which was likely the single most unpopular thing a member of the Gryffindor house could do. Adding Oliver Wood to the mix wouldn't change much for Peek.

"Do you know Ivy Taggart?"

"Yes," said Oliver. "She's the redhead from Ravenclaw. She's Macey's friend."

"She wants to set this up and asked me to help."

"She asked you? What do you get out of it?" Oliver put his hands on his hips. A muddy dirt clod fell loose and splattered on the tiled floor.

"Do I need to get anything out of it? She's my friend."

"I've seen that - you sitting with her, she's a Ravenclaw and she a lot older than you. It seems odd.

Peek shrugged. "She's in one of my classes and...I think she misses her little brothers. I'm the next best thing."

Oliver gave it a thought and a short chuckle. "I guess that makes sense. Alright, we'll do this." Oliver turned away from Peek. "I need to take a shower. I'll be down in fifteen minutes.

Oliver got as far as the first step.

"Oliver," called Peek. "You would think it's obvious.

"What's that?" said Oliver as he turned back to Peek.

"I want Katie to stop beating up on me. If I helped you and Macey get together, maybe you'd help me."

Oliver looked back towards the girls' dorms. "That's really between you and her, Ferris."

Peek didn't agree. It wasn't _between_ him and Katie at all. it was one-sided, all in Katie's favor. "But you're her team captain. You can do something about it."

"If it affects the team, sure, but otherwise it's not my place."

"But you know it's not right. She's older than me and twice my size."

"Everyone is twice your size, Ferris. I'm not going to lie here."

Peek sighed. "Okay fine. Fifteen minutes and I'm heading down." A note of bitterness tinged the edges of Peeks's response. "If you're late, you're welcome to find me there."

Oliver considered Peek for a long while. He knew where the kid came from. He knew most of the Gryffindors avoided him. Katie was a second year and was proving an able quidditch chaser. Her fellow chasers, Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet completed a formidable triad, in the pitch and out of it. Johnson and Spinnet did not participate in the Peek-beatings but didn't stop them either, at least not until Peek bled or became unresponsive.

"Let me see what I could do," said Wood as he headed up to the dorms.

Peek waited for Oliver to return. He poked at the fire with the fireplace poker. He straightened several hanging pictures - much to their occupants' annoyances. He tested the edge of a decorative sword - it was dull. After forty minutes, he left through the entrance portal and headed down to the great hall. It was a short walk from the Gryffindor tower to the great hall but in the darkest most deserted corridor, Katie Bell just happened to be walking. Two other Gryffindors were there as well, walking further back, Badger Sullivan and Holden Biggs. Peek didn't know them, only that they were Gryffindors.

Katie had a smile on her face, at first, no doubt from the thoughts of bludgers and quaffles and the rush of wind in her face, but her eyes fell upon Peek and the smile failed. It was as if Peek was a requisite duty that she sometimes grew tired of.

Peek stopped walking and waited for the inevitable.

Katie stepped up to him and held him by his upper arm. She doubled up her fist, and cocked it over her shoulder.

"Why don't you ever fight back?" growled Katie. "Why do you just let me do this?"

"My old gaffer said you would all come around in time." said Peek as he stared at Katie's fist, waiting for it to let fly. "He said I needed to be patient."

"Well, you're in for a long wait."

"C'mon Katie," let him go," said Badger as he and Holden drew near.

"No," said Holden. "Give 'im another go, Katie. Don't hold back." He laughed.

"I like the first choice," said Peek as he gestured towards Holden. "How about letting me go? Please?"

"That's not gonna happen, 'Dung-Eater'," said Katie, using her favorite play on the 'Death Eater' title. She also chose 'Dead Meater' on occasion or 'Dim Peter'.

"This is gonna continue for a very long time," she continued. "You are a betrayer and if the ministry won't keep you in your place. I will."

She swung at Peek and missed.

Peek, when faced with five knuckles and another painful impact, arrived at a new choice; Katie was never going to stop bullying him and he was done letting her "give him another go" as the less-than-helpful Holden encouraged, instead, he had ducked low, as Katie swung, and in a moment of rash decision, came up with a knife at her throat. He was done with Hogwarts. None of these narrow-minded, children-of-his-betters, would ever come around and the prospect of spending seven years paying for whatever crime they wanted him accountable for was far from appealing. Peek was done, and the knife at Katie's throat was his exclamation point.

"Accio knife!" shouted holden with his wand in hand. The knife ripped from Peek's hand and drew a small thin cut across Katie's neck.

But while all eyes followed the flying knife as it arched towards Holden, Peek drew his wand and made a broad sweeping gesture

"Obvettia Legeth Drocall Slippencia," murmured Peek. The spell tripped the legs out from under Katie. She went down hard and struck her head on the floor.

Peek didn't use a wand before coming to Hogwarts. There were little tricks he could manage without one, tricks he learned on the street, and ones the ministry did not detect. Still, the thick, heavy, thirteen-inch, slugger of a wand, in his hand seemed to be sporting for a fight and who was Peek to deny it.

In that moment, the first thing Peek learned was that these students weren't scrappers. They may have faced each other like dueling wannabes, firing off annoying jinxes and hexes at each other, but young Peek was a veteran of countless fights with the scars to prove it. The simple spell he used on Katie would not have worked on anyone from his old neighborhood because it took too long to vocalize, and was easily countered by stepping out of the way. These "students" were about to be schooled.

"Slisha Veggeroth Attiris" Peek made two slashing gestures at Badger and cut the front of his shirt and robe wide open, as with a razor. The wandless magic he used on the streets adapted well to the wand. Again, simple spells to counter in the back-alleys but not here among the pampered, the rich, and the well-to-do, of which Badger and Holden and Katie may or may not have been. It didn't matter to Peek. They were all the same.

Holden tried a leg-lock curse on Peek, which was easily blocked. Badger recovered from his breezy front-side exhibition and after confirming his skin was not laid open like his robe, attempted a feeble-fingers jinx. Peek didn't need to block it. It sailed well clear to his right.

Peek countered with a mumbly-mind calming charm, which he landed on Holden. It didn't do much, it never did, but Holden didn't know that and it shook his confidence.

Peek stepped over Katie to press his advantage on the older boys, who gave way. Yes, both were capable of better, more complicated spellcasting, but neither expected the tiny _first-year of fury_ to advance on them.

Katie regained her senses and came up behind Peek. Peek whirled around on her but she got him first. She hit him with a Buster Haymaker Wonder Punch spell, a favorite over in The States. It caught Peek under the jaw like a prize fighter with an anvil in his boxing glove. Peek sailed across the hallway and crashed into the opposite wall.

Katie paused when she felt a bead of blood trickle down her neck. She wiped at it and saw the red smear on her hand.

"Mother of 'effing Merlin, he cut me!"

Katie lost it. She charged after Peek with a flurry of punches to his back and neck. She had hit Peek so many times in the past, it was no surprise she knew how to throw a punch for effect. Peek went down and Katie followed with an elbow that flattened Peek's nose.

Peek squirmed out from under Katie, gushing blood, just as Holden pounced. But Peek, used to the quick escape, caught up Holden's arm and ducked under it. He twisted Holden's bent arm like a lever, wrenching it in the shoulder socket. Holden let out a cry as the tendons strained and the cuff of his shoulder tore. Peek used the forward momentum to direct Holden towards the nearby window. Holden hit it and the centuries-old stained glass broke outward into hundreds of pieces.

Holden was before Peek. Katie was to his left, and Badger was to his right. Peek held his walnut wand leveled at Katie and held Katie's wand, it may have been ash or elm, leveled at Badger. Yes. Peek had Katie's wand, in the same way he had taken Crabbe's on the Hogwarts Express. He was a thief after all.

"What the fuck is going on!" shouted Ivy. She arrived with Macey just as Oliver Wood arrived. Peek had blood flowing from his nose, which collected in his shirt collar. Badger was half naked, and Holden was cradling his arm. Katie was crazed like a mad dog, and all but foaming at the mouth.

"Katie!" shouted Oliver. "Stop it! Go back to the tower! Now!"

"That son-of-a-house elf has my wand!" shouted Katie in anger. "And I'm going to pulverize him bloody when I get it back!"

Peek aimed both wands at Katie. "I beg you to try," he snarled. His voice was cold and deadly like one who had nothing left to lose and had come to terms with it.

The older students knew what the three unforgivable curses were. And, they knew there were plenty of spells that stopped just short of those terrible effects; spells that could wound and damage and break and hurt. None of the students knew what Peek, the angry street mouse with back-alley learning and two wands in his hands, was capable of.

But, it didn't matter to Katie. She doubled her fists and jerked forward into action.

"Vissectus Biffor-" Peek shouted.

"Peek!" cried Ivy. "Stop!" She knew the spell Peek was casting. It was the same spell Gilderoy Lockhart used on the vampire criminal, Tyren Sylvek, when they fought in the Pyrenees. She had read all of Lockhart's books. He had described the battle in great detail. Sylvek, of course, didn't survived - none who faced Lockhart ever did. Whether Peek could cast the deadly spell or not was well beyond risking.

Ivy's panicked cry surprised Katie, which caused her to flinch and stop short.

Oliver stepped forward with arms out and hands up in pleading supplication. He knew the spell too, and a student using it on another student was, in that moment, the single most dangerous situation at Hogwarts. "Peek, don't do this. Look at me, not her."

"Oh no, _Poop_ ," shouted Katie who was oblivious of the danger she faced. "Look right here at me, 'cause this ain't over!"

"Katie, shut it!" shouted Oliver.

Badger and Holden backed away.

Macey stiffened. "Peek, put down the wands," she implored. "Please."

Ivy advanced until she stood between Peek and Katie. Peek stretched around her, to maintain his aim at Katie, until Ivy was fully in his way. But Peek in his anger, didn't lower the wands. He aimed them at Ivy as if he was ready to cast through her at Bell.

"Vissectus…" Peek began, but he wavered and paused.

"Peek…don't," said Ivy. She closed her eyes and carefully reached up until she found the first wand. "Let me have them," she said with the slightest of voice. She gently pulled it and the second wand from Peek's hands.

Peek felt the blood flowing from his nose. He tasted it in his mouth. His nose was broken and his eyes stung. He was angry but Ivy had wounded Peek as no other had ever. Her saddened face, the face of the only student in all of Hogwarts who had a care for Peek, shown with a disappointment that cut him to the heart.

When Ivy opened her eyes, there were tears in them. She handed Katie's wand to Oliver. Katie made a motion towards Peek but Oliver gave her a fierce undeniable scowl that stopped her cold.

"Come," said Ivy as she pocketed Peek's wand. "We will need to find Professor McGonagall."

Peek gave what might have been a sigh of relief. "This was long overdue," said Peek. "I'll have to leave Hogwarts, won't I."

Peek's spell, "Vissectus Bifforracium", severed internal organs from within and left no visible marks outside. Gilderoy Lockhart documented the effects in his second book and expanded on them in his fifth. According to Lockhart, victims bled to death within minutes. The effect was said to be irreversible. Peek's attempt at the spell, towards another student, would never go unpunished. Expulsion from school would likely be the least of his worries.

"Yes, I think so." She gave Peek a ruffle of his hair and attempted a smile. "But I'll be with you. You won't face this alone." She took Peek's hand and walked him away from Oliver and Katie, past Holden.

"I wanted to hurt her like she hurt me," said Peek. "I thought she would get tired of hitting me. I thought I could manage it."

"No one should have had to," said Ivy. "It's not your fault."

"I wouldn't have wanted to kill her. I just wanted it to stop."

"I know," said Ivy in a soft voice. "And, she will be punished. I will make certain of it." Ivy looked back at Oliver and Katie with a scathing glower that might have cowered the dark lord himself.

Macey fell in behind Ivy and Peek. She thought she had liked Oliver Wood, but something about him tarnished in the new light.

The small procession took no more than six or seven steps when Badger, having difficulty holding his slashed shirt and robes in place, called, "wait!"

"I think we're done here," said Ivy glancing back. Badger's underwear was showing despite his best attempts to cover it. Any other time, she might have flashed a bemused smile and had a little teasing fun at the boy's expense.

"But, you need to hear this," said Badger to Ivy as he gestured to Peek. " _He_ needs to hear this." He turned to Katie. " _You_ too."

Ivy gave out a perturbed sigh.

"Katie," said Badger "I know you lost a relation to the death eaters, right? One of your family? It's why you bully Peek."

"Badger, this isn't-" started Oliver.

"And Peek," Badger kept going. "I know your people sided with the death eaters."

Ivy growled. "Come on, Peek. We're going before I start cutting loose with my own spells," said Ivy as she pushed Peek forward. "And, nobody, including ' _Captain Underpants_ ' here, is gonna like that."

But, Badger held up his hands and stepped in Peek's and Ivy's way.

"I was seven years old when ' _He who must not be named'_ got really powerful. I mean, unstoppable-powerful.

"So were a lot of students," said Oliver. "What of it?"

"My dad hated Peek's people. The ones from the streets, from London and Birmingham and Bristol. He said they were Gutless Betrayers and called them 'Gutlers'. He called them other names too - really awful names. When they sided with ' _Him'_ , people like my dad went crazy. And then when the dark lord was gone and didn't seem to be coming back, my dad and my uncle went around gathering up a mob to go after _them_ \- Your people, Parker.

My dad wasn't going to chase down death eaters but he sure as hell was ready to go after poor...defenseless...people"

Badger sniffed but he gathered his courage. He seemed emboldened.

"Most of the street people never went to school or never used their wands for more than just simple stuff. Half of them didn't have wands - they had cut branches to make it look like they did. They had knives and clubs and anything they could use as shields."

Badger paused.

"How do you know all of this?" growled Ivy.

"I know it because I was there," said Badger. "My dad said I needed to go with, to do my part, and to earn my 'blood'. He said my older brother was soft and that I wouldn't be, if he had his way.

I remember late that night, him waking me up, and dragging me downstairs. My uncle was there and so were eight or ten others. We had to hurry, you see, because he was afraid the fighting wouldn't last long.

We got to the hill where they were trapped - the street people. There were hundreds of us surrounding them. My dad shoved his old wand into my hand and quickly taught me some attack spells. He didn't teach me any defense spells because he said I wouldn't need them.

My uncle said it was going to be a slaughter. They all laughed. It _was_ a slaughter like nothing I ever want to see again.

We all raced up the hill. I didn't want to go but my dad and someone else dragged me up it, by the arms, between them. There were other kids there too, I recognize them here at Hogwarts. They recognize me too but we don't talk about it.

Anyway, they were all up there, the street people. They were scared and trying to surrender but we were killing them. They begged to be spared but they were dying right in front of me. Bleeding. Not moving. This old guy had a tree branch for a wand and a dustbin cover as a shield - a ruddy dustbin cover. He kept saying 'they promised me food', over and over, and then he was dead. Not by me, but it may as well have been.

Something hit me and that's all I remembered until the next morning. I was awoken by a crying woman. She was near me and had been hit with a brittle-skin curse. Every time she moved, her skin shattered like glass. She wasn't one of us. She was dressed in rags and the aurors were trying to save her. She died too.

In the end, it was aurors who arrived and shielded them from us, that night. But it wasn't soon enough. I bet there were three-hundred dead on that hilltop. Three-hundred dead and no more than fifty survivors, all of them wounded and bloody.

"There were three-hundred and twenty-eight dead," said Peek to himself, "and two of them were my parents."

"The ministry wasn't there?" asked Macey.

"No, just a bloodthirsty mob and then the aurors. Others showed up a little later, militias mostly, called in by the Aurors, or so I was told. One was called 'Order of the Phoenix' and another was called 'Merlin's Right Arm of Justice'. They supported the aurors and chased people like me, my dad, and my uncle away."

The hallway was silent for many minutes. At last, Ivy turned to Peek and asked him out loud, "Your parents were on that hill, weren't they?" Of course they were on the hill. She knew it but the others needed to hear it.

Peek nodded his head yes.

"And they didn't come back down from it did they?" she asked. She knew Peek's parents were up there, in unmarked graves. All of Peek's people, who died that night, were.

Peek shook his head no.

Ivy looked back at Katie. "You're done, Katie Belle, if you so much as look cross-eyed at this boy, I'll finish the spell he started." No, Peek wasn't Ivy's little brother but he may as well have been.

Katie didn't hesitate, not even a moment. "I'm sorry, Peek," she croaked. "I am so sorry. I didn't know."

"And you, _'Breezy_ '," Ivy rounded on Badger causing him to flinch. She was so angry her eyes teared. "You should have stopped your father and your uncle and your mom and whatever troll-bred ilk spawned from that rotted seed you call a lineage. Three-hundred dead, sir. Three-hundred!" She didn't know where the "Sir" came from or why she added it, but goodness, did it underscore her anger.

"I was seven years old," quaked Badger. Ivy was truly scary when she was mad.

"Then you should have died trying! You're a fucking Gryffindor. You should have acted like one."

"But I wasn't a Gryffindor…," Badger squeaked, "...at the time."

Ivy turned red in a flash. Her hands curled into claws…

"Ivy, can we just go?" said Peek.

It was Ivy's turn to be cut to the heart. She breathed a heavy release, closed her eyes, and paused for a long moment. "Of course we can go," she replied in a leveled voice. She looked down and smiled affectionately at Peek. "Of course," she repeated.

Peek and Ivy skirted around Badger, who avoided their eyes. They came to an abrupt halt. Before them were Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick and Sprout and behind them were dozens of curious students filling in.

 **End of Chapter 12**


	13. Ch 13 - The Counsel of Dumbledore

**Chapter 13 - The Counsel of Dumbledore**

"Snape used to like dogs but I hear he's a cat person now."

 _~Fred or George Weasley (?)_

* * *

Previously on "After Harry Comes Peek" - Harry was caught using a knife and attempting a fatal spell on a bully. He was taken away by the Hogwarts heads of houses.

"Somebody say something," said Peek.

"Peek, Shhhhh," said Ivy in a low voice.

Peek and Ivy walked between Professors McGonagall, Snape, Flitwick, and Sprout. The four Heads of House said nothing but happened to be in-step at that moment in the journey and the sounds of their shoes echoed like a loud final countdown.

"Klup! Klup! Klup!"

"I'm not sorry," said Peek, "not at all."

"Peek...hush," said Ivy.

"Kelup!, Ker-lup!, Kerrr-lup." Professor Snape had been injured in the leg for some reason he would not share, not surprising, and wasn't keeping pace with the others. Professor Flitwick's legs were shorter. All in all, the little in-synch moment ended as quickly as it started.

"It would be best if you refrained from speaking," said Snape. His voice was cold and empty.

Peek might have been a star-pupil of Snape's if Snape ever had star pupils. Peek had an undeniable knack for potion brewing. He wasn't just a prodigy at his age, but a cut above them.

Peek was homeless at times in his young life, sitting in muggle libraries out of the cold, reading books, and finding where the wizarding world showed up in gardening books, outdoor living, history, ghost tales, tales of the unexplained, and especially, Medieval Europe. He traded work for access to books or stole them during lean times.

Mr. Millwater turned to wild-crafting to avoid ministry restrictions and high taxes. He often took Peek to the country, to crawl through hedges, turn over stones, muck in mud, and search in the moonlight, for herbs, spices, and rare ingredients wherever they grew or collected. Millwater had to modify modern recipes so they worked with less than potent or unrefined ingredients. He dusted off ancient recipe tomes written long before the global access of supplies and made them work with what was available. Peek had a front seat to a master-cauldroner championing the last of a dying art. Peek was a sponge for knowledge. He learned the tugs on the ladle while stirring, the changes of smell when mixes warmed, the bubbles, and the colors. Peek was good, but not just at remembering things, he knew how fluids and powders and components balanced and how they blended. He could anticipate results when mixing correctly and when not. There was so much more to learn, of course, but Peek had a long leg up on all the other students Snape had ever taught.

And now, the young, promising, little grape was dying a quick and total death on the vine.

"Yes, sir," said Peek. He looked up at Snape. Snape looked straight ahead, statue-like.

The small troupe arrived at the entrance to the Headmaster's office, the same entrance where the highest of Ministry members walked through, where delegates and leaders from around the world entered, where the greatest of wizards and witches met and forged the way for tens of thousands of students across the ages.

"Meeting a great man by way of his front door...," thought Peek to himself. "I should either feel honored or I'm in really big trouble."

"Peek!" hissed Ivy as she stabbed him in the ribs with her pointer finger. "Shut it."

Apparently Peek had thought that last comment out loud.

"Wait here," said McGonagall as they entered the antechamber before the greater office. Dumbledore was there across the far room, standing behind his desk, waiting. Peek had seen the man only twice before. Both times, he was jovial. Today, he was not jovial. In fact, he looked tired or worn. The four professors entered and the doors closed behind them.

"Did you hear about Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone?" asked Peek as he and Ivy sat down.

Ivy sighed. "Who hasn't?"

"He's a hero."

"He's a Gryffindor."

"I'm a Gryffindor."

Ivy looked at the boy next to her. She searched his eyes, his forehead, his hair, anything for an acknowledgment by Peek that he understood his predicament. It was very likely he wouldn't be a Gryffindor much longer.

Ivy nodded. "You are one of the good ones."

Peek missed the compliment as his mind moved to the next topic in his head. "I heard it was ' _him_ ', the Dark Lord, reaching out from the grave." Peek raised his eyebrows for effect. "He comes at night on the bell of four, to steal you thither does Voldemort…"

Ivy frowned. "That's corny and you shouldn't say his name."

Peek sighed. "I know. I usually don't. It gets people upset."

Ivy smiled just a little. "Yes, it does."

"Ivy," said Peek. "It's okay, whatever happens. I'm ready to go. I liked my old neighborhood. I knew my place there. I knew the bad places and I knew the safe places. I knew where to eat like a king - if I didn't get caught. I've slept in palaces...at least they seemed like palaces to me. Some of the muggles are really rich and it's nothing to get past their alarms."

Ivy rumpled her face. "Really? You slept in muggle homes and no one noticed?"

"Actually no. I didn't. I thought about it though."

Ivy nodded her understanding.

Peek looked around the room. Most of the old headmasters were watching from their picture frames; some curious and many disapprovingly.

Peek smiled. "Pictures don't move where I come from. Can't risk it with the muggles around - very illegal.

Ivy nodded again as she looked up at the scowling, old headmasters looking down at them. "I suppose it's best if codgy old coots don't scoff at the muggles from picture frames, with their better-than-thou pretenses. The muggles might get offended."

More than one of the headmasters frowned and scoffed. Some were good at it, both in life and as paintings.

"It really is a different world here," said Peek.

"Yeah," said Ivy as she thought back to her early muggle life before Hogwarts. "It really is."

The two students sat in silence for a long while. Peek made figure eights with his foot. Ivy rolled the hem of her skirt. Both imagined what was being said behind the closed door.

"Someone's coming," said Ivy in a soft voice as she looked out towards the stairs. "They're trying to be quiet."

Peek nodded. "Yeah, maybe another student?"

"Maybe."

It was Filch.

Both students stood. Filch wasn't a teacher but he could be trouble if not shown a certain level of respect.

Filch stood before them. He was angry. Agitated. His arms fidgeted at his side.

"You've done it then?" growled Filch. "You've pulled a knife on the lass, like a common muggle thug, like spit and spittle and dirt behind your ears."

"Mr. Filch-" said Ivy but he cut her off.

"Go back to your streets. Roll in the mud for all I care."

"Mr. Filch…" said Ivy as she looked back towards Dumbledore's office door. This was not appropriate, even for Filch.

Filch knew some of the Squibs who didn't come down from that same hill where Peek's parents died. He knew the rough-and-tumbles, the street people who could manage a little magic but nothing that would have ever got them a Hogwarts' invitation. He knew Purdy UhnKleen, the owner of the inn where Peek and Mr. Millwater had lunch from time to time and where Peek stayed the night before riding the Express to Hogwarts. Filch had drunk himself silly with Purdy and Millwater when they were much younger and for years walked their same path, but he landed the Hogwarts job and rose well above them.

"If you had killed that girl," continued Filch, "I would have walked you to Azkaban myself."

"Mr. Filch!" shouted Ivy in anger. She stomped her foot in protest.

"Wait, Azkaban is on an island," corrected Peek. "We couldn't have walked there."

Filch opened his mouth to rebuke just as the door to Dumbledore's office swung open.

Dumbledore led the small group of professors out into the antechamber. McGonagall looked upset, even angry. Snape was as statue-like as ever. Flitwick and Sprout avoided Peek's eyes.

"That will do, Mr. Filch," said Dumbledore. "That will do."

He dismissed Filch with a wave. Filch, still angry and still agitated, mumbled obscenities all the way out through the entrance and up the stairs.

"Now then, Mr. Ferris-" said Dumbledore with a reassuring smile but Peek interrupted.

"Am I going to Azkaban Prison?" asked Peek.

Dumbledore's smile did not falter. "That, of course, is entirely up to you, but in your immediate future? No.

I have been in contact with the ministry. We will send you back to London where you will be met by an advisor. I understand you know Mr. Byron Millwater rather well. He has agreed to be your guardian in an official capacity."

The severity started sinking into Peek's understanding. He would have to face Mr. Millwater as a failure, as a "common muggle thug", as Filch likened him to. Not just Millwater, but Mr. UhnKleen and all the others who congratulated him on getting his Hogwarts invitation. There were many who had high hopes for Peek. One of their own was going to Hogwarts. And now, one of their own didn't make it to mid-term before being thrown out.

"But it is important for you to understand," Dumbledore continued. "You still have a place reserved for you here at Hogwarts, that has not changed, and I will expect you back next fall."

McGonagall stepped forward. "You will keep your books because you will continue your studies. Your progress will be reported to Professor Snape and to me."

"Professor Snape?" Peek rumpled his face.

Snape looked down at Peek but did not reply.

"Professor Snape has requested to remain apprised," replied Dumbledore.

Peek nodded his understanding. Snape's potions class was the only reason for Peek's regret. He had little interest in his other classes, but he really liked potions. Professor Snape was a source of rigidity and consistency which fit well with Peek. Potions class, and Ivy, would be the only things he would miss.

"You will take the Hogwarts Express back to London," said Dumbledore, "by way of Manchester."

At this, Professor Sprout turned as if surprised or caught off guard. "The express?" she said with a curious look. "That is five days from now. One of us can run him out there today, if he's ready." She gave a helpful, if not somewhat awkward smile, to Peek and repeated it to Ivy.

"That will not be necessary, professor," said Dumbledore. "The Express will suffice."

Dumbledore turned in place and paced back to his office as a sign the discussion had ended.

Sprout turned and looked at McGonagall and Snape.

Snape shrugged.

"A few more hot meals and a warm bed," said McGonagall. "There is nothing wrong with that."

* * *

 **End of Chapter 13**


	14. Ch 14 - To Sleep or Not To Sleep

**Chapter 14 - To Sleep or Not To Sleep**

" _I could steal his wand in a heartbeat but maybe I should focus on not having an accident in front of him…_ "

~Peek

* * *

Chapter 14 - To Sleep or Not To Sleep

Peek was not confined to his room but he was discouraged from mixing with the other students. He was placed in one of the guest wings of the castle, not where dignitaries and distinguished people stay but in one of the rooms where their servants might stay when attending them.

The Hufflepuff's house must have been nearby because many students in yellow and black sneaked through, up and down the hallway, as if it was a shortcut.

Peek looked out the window for a time. It was late in the day and the sun was setting. He could see the courtyard below, the castle's gatehouse, and the lake far beyond. A light haze was forming in the lowlands while clouds turned from white and gray to dark blue, red, and purple.

Peek considered the events that had played out and where they had gone wrong. Katie was a problem from the start. Peek remembered her hitting him with a pudding on the Hogwarts Express. Peek had two good shirts prior to that moment; the one he was wearing and the one he wore with his robe. He left the pudding-stained shirt wrapped up in a ball, back on the train. He smiled to himself. Yes, the events had gone wrong before he had even stepped foot on Hogwarts' land. Him being tossed into Gryffindor by the sorting hat, in the same house as Katie, sealed his fate.

He thought about Potter, the Hero, and Weasley and Granger. They were nice enough and spoke to him on occasion, Weasley did often in fact - there was a certain connection that came with poverty. The Weasley twins were equal-opportunity pranksters and while Peek fell prey to their antics on numerous times, it was an odd sense of inclusion for him.

"Hey Peek," said Ivy as she knocked on the open door and entered Peek's room. Her friend Gina was with her.

"Nice room," said Gina. Gina noticed a tray with emptied dishes on a table by the door. "You're getting your meals brought up?" she asked.

Peek nodded.

"Hmm." replied Gina in a _must-be-nice_ tone.

Ivy crossed the room to the bed and sat down. "So...," she began as she tested the bed with a couple of bounces. "What happened after they chased me out?"

Peek gave a slight smile as he leaned against the wall opposite of Ivy. "Professor Sprout commented on your behavior," he replied. "He said you weren't usually like that."

"Did Ivy really call Snape a Useless, Hook-nosed, Dread-Nutter?" asked Gina.

"She did," said Peek, "right to his face."

Gina laughed but with a cautious tone. "You have to be careful, Ivy. Snape has influence beyond just the school. 'He knows people who know people,' says my dad, and not many of them in good ways."

Ivy nodded her agreement. "It wasn't one of my finest moments," she added. "But really Peek, you're crazy smart with potions and Snape knows it. He should have fought for you."

"I don't know about that," replied Peek. "Maybe he did."

"If he didn't, he should have," said Ivy.

"Professor McGonagall looked like she tried," offered Peek.

Ivy nodded again. "She seemed mad."

Peek agreed.

"So what happens next, kid?" said Gina as she sat in a chair next to the window. There was a small writing table against it. Gina picked up the quill and balanced it on her finger. "Off to London is it?"

"Yeah, I'm going back 'by way of Manchester'," said Peek but he paused and looked over at Ivy. "You heard him say that too, Ivy, right? By way of Manchester?"

Ivy nodded, "I did. I wonder what's in Manchester."

Peek shrugged.

"Kedgie, the fourth year, is from Manchester and so is Dwight," said Gina. "And so are the Prendle Prairie Harpies if you follow the non-sanctioned Quidditch leagues."

"Who doesn't?" said Ivy with light sarcasm. "Peek, you?"

"Oh sure," stammered Peek who was caught off-guard. "Of course I do. Prendle…?"

"Prairie Harpies," said Gina with a frown.

Peek thought about Quidditch and tried to decide if he liked the sport or not. Katie Bell was a chaser on the Gryffindor team. If he, Peek, didn't like Quidditch, it shouldn't be because of Katie.

Peek shrugged. "I'm sure I'll find out what's there soon enough."

Ivy nodded.

"Well," said Ivy as she stood, Gina stood too and crossed behind Ivy. "We only stopped to say 'Hi'. We're going down for dinner, since no one is going to bring ours up to us." She took a moment to ruffle Peek's hair, yet again. She turned towards the door where Gina had stopped and was now poised in mid-step.

In front of Gina, framed in the doorway, was McGonagall. Behind her, was Snape. Behind Snape was Madam Pomfrey.

"Miss Dorety," said McGonagall, "perhaps you might cease in your gawking and let us through?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Gina as she side-stepped out of the way. "Of course ma'am."

"You two may go," said McGonagall as she eyed Ivy and Gina."

"Miss Taggart might be of some use," said Snape as he came up next to McGonagall. "They are…," he paused with a scowl, "friends."

"Yes, perhaps," said McGonagall. "Off you go, Dorety," said McGonagall to Gina.

Both professors looked back at Gina who stepped awkwardly backward around Pomfrey, felt for the door with her hand, backed through it, and was gone, although Peek and Ivy saw her pop her head back into the doorway for a quick look again.

Snape crossed to a small table by the bed and set down a small vial of purplish-blue color. It bubbled lightly and swirled on its own accord while catching the last light of the evening sun.

"What is it?" said Peek as he crossed to the table and stood next to Snape.

Snape looked up at McGonagall with a raised eyebrow. McGonagall glanced back at the door for Dumbledore but they had arrived a little earlier than the agreed time.

"It is a sleeping draft," said McGonagall.

Peek stepped back reflexively with a flash of fear spreading across his face. "Um, I don't need that." His eyes darted to the window and over to the door. The discussion had become instantly uncomfortable and those were his two ways of escape.

"We know you've been taking a potion every night to stay awake," said McGonagall.

"Malynoctulate, actually," added Snape. "It is banned by the ministry for being addictive and easily abused."

McGonagall frowned at Snape for his matter-of-fact response.

Ivy's jaw fell open. She knew what Malynoctulate was. The muggle world had a number of illegal drugs that did much the same.

"The long term effects," continued Snape, "include heavy restriction of physical growth and inability to maintain weight."

Ivy rounded on Peek. "You've done this to yourself?" she said as she gestured to the length of Peek's body. He was likely the smallest ever first-year student since before the early plagues and the whole Twiggy-sixties thing. "You stupid boy. Maly-nasty's a goblin drug for getting bloody well Kedavra'ed out of your mind. No one takes it unless they don't give a damn."

Ivy raised a hand to slap Peek but he took another step back out of her reach.

"I had my reasons," said Peek.

"Really?" said Ivy in frustration, "Because I've worried about your health, Peek, _a lot_ , and even talked to Madam Pomfrey about you, _many_ times."

"Miss Taggart-" began McGonagall.

"I didn't ask you to worry about me!" snapped Peek. "It wasn't your job!"

"Children," said Pomfrey with a stern voice.

"Mr. Ferris-" growled Snape

"Somebody had to!" shouted Ivy.

"Not you!" shouted Peek. "I'm not one of your brothers!"

Ivy was stunned to silence, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"Parker Ferris!" snarled Snape between gritted teeth. "Be silent or I will make you so!"

"Miss Taggart," said McGonagall, quickly, as she stepped between the two students. "It was Madame Pomfrey who alerted us _because_ of your concerns and because of other things she has noted.

"Other things?" said Ivy in a lowered but severe voice. She trembled in anger as she looked down at her feet. Peek's eyes were the last things she wanted to meet at that moment. Katie Bell could never throw a fisted right hook like the one Ivy was ready to deliver.

"Peek is a 'dream-charmer', or 'sleep-caster' if you will. Our scholars call it Pernoctal-Olimag."

"Dream-charmer? Pernoc…," said Ivy, "I don't know what they mean."

"A Pernoctal-Olimag…," added Dumbledore as he swept into the room, "is someone who can work magic in his or her sleep, without a wand." He circled the group to the window and looked out at the darkening sky. "Often, with very tragic results."

"Good evening, Headmaster," said Snape.

"Headmaster," said McGonagall and Pomfrey in unison.

"Good evening all," said Dumbledore as he turned to Peek. "Have I summed it up correctly, Mr. Ferris?"

Peek gave a slight nod of agreement.

Dumbledore continued after a courtesy pause to let Ivy catch up so-to-speak. "It is a name given most often in death, because Pernoctal-Olimag children rarely live longer than the toddler age or their first nightmare."

Peek agreed. "I burned down an old building once," he said as he too, like Ivy, stared at his feet. His voice was almost as low as hers. "I don't remember it, but my old potions master said so. He said I slept through the whole thing - like a baby."

"There have been other times after that, I think." said Dumbledore, "or have I been misled?"

"No professor," said Peek. He wondered how much Dumbledore knew of his past. He wondered what the ministry knew about him and what they may have told the headmaster. He had tried sleeping several times, out of desperation, each resulting in a narrow escape.

"I was in the muggle underground, once, in an old transfer station that wasn't used anymore.

"The Tube," said Dumbledore helpfully to the others. "The Americans call it their 'Subway'."

Peek agreed, "It's like tunnels for trains."

The others nodded.

"Anyway, it was freezing cold up top, on the streets," said Peek. "I was tired. I worked my way below, and just fell asleep where I lay. I thought I was freezing to death. It was so easy to close my eyes and drift off."

"But you didn't die, of course, did you?" asked Dumbledore. "Nearly though."

"Yes, sir. I woke up on the ceiling, sleeping upside down, and fell... _down_ to the floor below." Peek shook his head because his description sounded as odd out loud as it had in his head. "I was maybe twenty feet high under a dome in the ceiling. I fell all the way down and broke my arm and my shoulder."

"Ouch...," Ivy exclaimed as she pictured in her mind a child crashing down onto a concrete walkway. "It must have hurt."

"Oh, it sure did. But, it was okay because the muggles fixed me and then Mrs. Bellringer, by the old foundry, re-fixed me. She's like Madam Pomfrey." He turned to Pomfrey, "like you ma'am, but older, a lot older."

Pomfrey gave a light smile.

Dumbledore nodded and smiled as well. "Miss Taggart, young Peek, here, takes the Malynoctulate, 'Maly-nasty' as you and many others call it, to avoid sleeping and dreaming and of course, injury."

"And death," added Peek. "Let's not forget that part."

Dumbledore gave an appreciative smile. "Yes, and death."

Ivy paused in confusion. "But I don't need a wand for magic," she said, "not the easy spells. I've never burned down a building or...slept upside down, and I don't do goblin drugs to stay awake."

"No, of course not," said Dumbledore. "That is because we, you and I and others, have to be actively engaged in the casting, with or without a wand. We must be cognizant. We must be awake." He turned to Peek. "Peek, however, does not."

"They just come out of him?" asked Ivy. "Spells?"

"Not the complicated ones, I suspect," said Dumbledore, "but yes, others less so."

Ivy looked over to Peek. "Is this true?"

Peek nodded. "As much as I know, yes, but, I was always asleep when they happened."

Ivy gave a long quiet pause. "Well don't I feel the perfect idiot."

Peek gave a cautious smile. "It goes with your looks."

Ivy returned the smile, albeit furtive at best.

"You should have told me," said Ivy.

"You shouldn't have called me 'stupid boy'," said Peek. "I'm not stupid and you said I was crazy smart not five minutes ago."

"Yes, that was for potions," said Ivy as she waxed a better, more appropriate smile. "But, you're bordering between troll and ogre brains for the rest of your subjects," she added as she ruffled Peek's hair again but also straightened his shirt.

"When was the last time you slept?" she asked. "Tell me the truth."

"I can't remember exactly when. Sometimes I doze for a little before I realize it and wake" replied Peek, "maybe two years ago?"

"You must be tired."

"Ivy, I am so tired…" said Peek. "Most days I cannot think straight."

"Which brings us back to this little number," said Dumbledore as he held up the purplish-blue sleeping potion and gave a light swirl to the contents. "Professor Snape has been working on it a long while, ever since we learned you were, how should I say…?" Dumbledore paused for the right phrase.

"Not. Dead?" offered Snape.

"Yes, not dead," repeated Dumbledore but in a much lighter tone than Snape's. "Ministry records were sketchy in those times after Voldemort's fall, assumptions were made, errors happened, they were corrected, and, here you are."

"And there he goes," said Ivy under her breath but loud enough for all to hear. "... _By way of Manchester_."

"Miss Taggart...," said McGonagall with a severe tone. Ivy's comment was laced with sarcasm.

"Indeed Miss Taggart," said Dumbledore. "Peek needs to attend to other matters but we maintain high hopes for his return and continued education. For now, we'll settle for him getting a good night's sleep."

 **End of Chapter 14**


	15. Ch 15 - No Choice Given

As always - I own none of the Harry Potter world, save the books on a shelf, the movies in a cabinet, and fan memorabilia. The following is fan fiction only.

 **Chapter 15 – No Choice Given**

 _"She couldn't have been an auror. She's not missing any of her body parts."_

 _~R. Weasley on the subject of Madam Pomfrey and her questionable past_

* * *

Two students, three professors, and Madam Pomfrey stood together in a guest room of Hogwarts. Peek had been separated from the other students because of a violent outburst - it had been provoked, but his response was near-fatal to the other student, and could not be ignored. He was being expelled from Hogwarts but as a 'parting gift', Snape had crafted a potion to manage Peek's deadly sleeping disorder - a disorder that was indirectly related to Peek's poor health and tiny stature. Peek feared death if the potion failed.

* * *

"But, I don't want that," said Peek when all eyes returned to him. He gestured to the bottle in Dumbledore's hand. "I don't want to sleep. Let me walk out the front gate and I'll manage it on my own. You won't need to think of me again."

"But Mr. Ferris, won't you try?" asked Dumbledore. "Do you not have faith in Professor Snape?"

Dumbledore made an excellent point. Peek's refusal to take the sleeping potion was likely seen as a lack of confidence in one of the best potion masters in all of Europe. That, and Dumbledore's full faith in Snape should have sufficed from the onset. He looked over at Ivy; she shrugged. He looked to McGonagall who looked stern but still had that grandmother-knows-best look about her. He looked at Snape but he seemed as dispassionate as he ever was.

Peek spent much of his whole life cheating sleep and by doing so, cheating the unthinkable. He knew what awaited him if he closed his eyes for too long. He knew what waited for him in a blissful slumber. It was death.

"Professors, please. I'll go away. I won't be a problem. I'll find my own way to London."

"Mr. Ferris-," began McGonagall.

"Call me Peek," interrupted Peek. "'Mr. Ferris' sounds like you're a ministry agent."

"Very well, 'Peek', I want you to trust us on this. We'll be here the whole time. Madam Pomfrey will be checking in.

"I will," said Pomfrey. "I have some other students I need to attend but will check in regularly."

"But, you won't need to check in at all if I am not here," said Peek with a note of desperation. "I pulled a knife on Katie Bell. I'm sorry. I won't do it again, ever. I just need the lot of you to look away for a short while - give me twenty minutes, that's all I need.

"Peek, it's not about Katie Bell-" started McGonagall.

"Just twenty minutes. Please." Peek's eyes glistened. "We'll call it a back-street dozen."

"A back-street...?" asked Pomfrey with an inquisitive look.

"A back-street dozen is eighteen," said Snape. His cold and seemingly dispassionate, but always calculating eyes, focused on Peek. His eyes narrowed on a falling tear that had dropped from Peek's eye and was coursing along his nose. "Twelve to fill a questionable order and six to the ministry agent for ignoring the transaction."

"Eighteen minutes, sir, and an open path to that door." Peek wiped the tear away, but his eyes continued to water. No doubt, others would follow.

McGonagall moved slightly, an innocent shifting of weight from one foot to the other, but Peek noticed. He fixated on her wand tucked under her waist belt. Was she about to use it on him? He watched her hand for movement towards it. He watched her fingers for a fractional twist, the predecessor of reaching for it. He bent his knees ever so slightly as a cornered beast might when preparing to lash out. He considered the odds of getting past Snape, but also turning his back to Dumbledore and McGonagall while making for the door and the hallway beyond. His odds of escape ranged from dismal to non-existent.

"Professors, he's terrified," said Ivy. "Look at him."

"Mr. Ferris," said Snape in a voice that pulled his focus away from McGonagall, from Dumbledore, and from Ivy. "I have prepared assignments specifically for you, to accomplish during your absence, and with the headmaster's and Professor McGonagall's permission, of course." His voice was like a slow dripping venom "They are difficult and dangerous and I would never give them to a student who cannot focus, a student whose mind might be _addled_ or _compromised_."

Peek stood in silence as his mind raced. Had he truly failed at Hogwarts if Snape hadn't given up on him? Were not the summer assignments proof of this? Could he continue as a second-year once he managed whatever it was the ministry would throw at him? He was going back to the gutters, the streets, and a life of poverty, but did he have to stay there? He felt another tear, born in frustration, track down his cheek.

"Sir…?" said Peek, but in a broken voice. "I could still do the work...I would be good at it."

Snape gave an ever-so-slightly shaking of his head. "No".

The sleep potion was his only way forward if he wanted this new option, the option of continued potions schooling and now, a tangible return to Hogwarts. Peek had two choices; an escape attempt that would get no further than six steps - four, if Pomfrey was really the disgraced auror-turned-healer that past rumors suggested, or sleep and either death, near-death, or maybe a life-change event.

"Professors, this can kill me, we all know this, but you give me no choice," said Peek with sunken spirit and more tears, "no choice at all."

"There are always choices," said Dumbledore. "I will send you back to London if that is your wish, and nothing more said on the matter, but I encourage you to choose Professor Snape's offer - our offer.

Peek shook heavily as he wrestled with powerful emotions. His shoulders drooped. "Sir, I'll apologize to Katie…" Peek tried one last time as more tears let fly, "Sir, I don't want to go to Azkaban and I don't want to die." He turned to Ivy. "Ivy please…please don't let them do this..." He reached for her as if his last hope was as thin as a thread and the final tug to break it had been pulled.

At this, Ivy sprung up, crossed to Peek, and stooped before him. "Look at me, Peek Ferris," she said as she grasped him by the shoulders. "No one is going to take you to Azkaban, I swear it. And, you're not going to die, I swear that too."

Peek didn't know what to do. He didn't know where to look or what to do with his hands. He didn't know what to say. His lip quivered.

"Come here," said Ivy as she pulled Peek into a great hug. She wrapped him up in her arms and held him tight as if nothing in the world would ever trouble him again. Exhaustion, held at bay for years, worked itself to the surface and Peek cried into her shoulder. He fell slack as great sobs wracked his body.

Katie Bell wasn't the first. He had known many dozens of people, just like Katie Bell. Indeed, the callous indifference shown by his fellow Gryffindors was no more or less than he had known all his life. He had been beaten many times. He had been laid out bloody in the London alleys and several times at Hogwarts. He had been ignored, scoffed at, chased, and reviled by muggles and wizards alike. He had lived off scraps that even the dogs wouldn't eat. Humiliated. Degraded, Abandoned. Pride, a luxury for many and a mystery for Peek, had long since been torn away, piece by piece, like large and small bits of paper scattered into the winds.

Still, Peek had clung to life because that is what he had always done and if for no other reason than the fear of what might follow. The line between life and death was a blur in his drowsy, half-witted, existence, but always he clawed for life. Always scraping and scratching for existence. But he was tired of all of it. Oh so tired.

"Dear boy," said Ivy to Peek as she held him upright and gently stroked his hair. "My dear boy," she said again as she kissed him on top of his head.

Peek collapsed in Ivy's arms as fatigue and weariness took hold. He was not heavy, nor had he ever been, and Ivy lifted him as she might a younger child. Dumbledore and McGonagall helped her bring him to the bed and lay him down. She cradled his head and looked into his fading eyes.

"Ivy...please," said Peek.

"I'll be right here." Ivy smiled at Peek with great affection. She turned to Snape with her hand out. She knew what needed to be done.

Snape unstopped the potion and placed it into her hand. "One drop will suffice, Miss Taggart," said Snape in a low voice.

Ivy nodded. "See you soon, Peek." She tipped the bottle gently. A single drop rolled out and fell into Peek's open mouth.

 **End of Chapter 15**

This FanFiction is nearing an end but comments/messages continue to be welcomed.

As is getting clearer through the narrative, Ivy and Peek are not love interests. More is coming on Ivy. :) and yes, I agree, Peek needed to be punished - one doesn't draw blood from another student's throat without consequence.


	16. Ch 16 - Separation Anxiety

**Chapter 16 - Separation Anxiety**

" _Of course it was the Weasley twins, whenever was it not the Weasley twins?"_

~all members of the staff at one point or another

* * *

"There you are. Good morning."

"Is it morning?" asked Peek. He rubbed at his eyes and gave a long stretch as he sat up in his bed. The heavy curtains allowed a faint line of light around the edges. A single candle lit the room. Light from the hallway was dim.

"Well no, not really. I'm just being silly. It's the afternoon. It's like, two o'clock now." Ivy stood up from the chair she was in and sat down on the bed next to Peek. "You were sleeping for so long, 'Good morning' seemed appropriate to say."

"How long has it been?"

"You've been out for three days. I was worried about you. We woke you up every once in a while, to eat and you know, go to the loo. Do you remember any of it?"

Peek shook his head. "No, not really," he replied as he looked around the room. He held out the front of his shirt. "...Or who changed me." He looked at Ivy with groggy but suspicious eyes. "Was it you?"

"Don't look at me," said Ivy with a smile. "You're my little friend, but not enough for that. It must have been Madam Pomfrey."

"She saw me naked?"

"I'm sure she's seen plenty of us naked. I'm sure you weren't the first."

Peek considered the act of losing his clothes during his very first sleep. He marked it in the negative column of the advantages and disadvantages of sleeping. Still, it was far better than losing one's life.

Well, how was it?

"Sleeping in general? Or do you mean dreaming, because I'm still getting my head around that part."

"All of it," said Ivy. "Tell me all the details."

"Well," said Peek, "It was great," His voice, still tired and soft, had a hint of marked incredulation. "I dreamed I was in a lake, swimming. And, I dreamed I was climbing mountains - apparently, we're surrounded by them."

They were at Hogwarts, snuggly set in the rocky North. Ivy smiled, "yes, apparently so."

I dreamt of home and of muggle cars. You know what they are, right? Cars? Autos?

Ivy smiled again. "Yes, I've seen a few." Ivy was muggle-born. She was older than Peek and had seen many thousands of them. Her parents had one.

Ivy helped Peek into a sitting position and fluffed the pillows behind him. Over the course of an hour, Peek described the dreams he could remember and Ivy, not unlike an affectionate parent, listened along with beaming smiles. In turn, she told him about the philosopher's stone, Professor Quirrell's death, and the dark lord, who now, in some posthumous form was roaming about the country. Harry Potter had foiled some dark plan by entities yet unknown - Quirrell, yes, but death eaters too? Slytherins? The Dark Lord himself? Details were slow to be known.

"You gave me the potion, didn't you?" said Peek at last. He remembered Ivy leaning over him. He remembered the purplish-blue drop as it fell from the bottle, into his mouth. Ivy's hand had held the bottle. Snape was behind her.

"I did," said Ivy but her smile did not fade. Peek had no way forward; the potions he took to avoid sleep were killing him and one day, would finish him. She felt she had made the right decision for Peek. The groggy, but living, child before her, was enough evidence.

"I'm grateful," said Peek. "If I've really slept for three days, and dreamed the whole time, then that's enough time to have accidentally burned up the castle or melted the floor or something. I think it worked."

"I was here most of the time," said Ivy with another smile. "You stirred a bit, at times. It was obvious you were dreaming. You mumbled some things I couldn't understand. That was about all. You drooled too, but just once. I had to clean that up."

"I drooled?"

"Yeah, it was disgusting. I could never be a care-giver like Pomfrey, too many body fluids to clean up after."

As if on cue, Dumbledore and Pomfrey entered the room. Dumbledore gave a warm smile to Peek and Ivy. Pomfrey looked around the room for anything broken, burned, or bleeding. She gave a warm smile also when she had confirmed to her satisfaction, Peek's sleeping was without dire incident.

"I see you are awake," said Dumbledore. Ivy began to stand but he motioned for her to stay seated.

"I am sir," replied Peek. "I feel great."

"You look great," said Dumbledore. He turned and gave a nod to Madam Pomfrey who swept in over Peek and checked Peek's skin color, his eyes, flexibility in both elbows, and the color of his tongue.

"All looks well, Headmaster.

"Good, good," said Dumbledore. "I'm certain Professor Snape will be pleased."

Peek and Ivy exchanged glances. Snape was never known to be pleased about anything, except maybe when he was bashing on the Gryffindors. He had a go at Harry Potter now and again but that seemed more like anger and hate, than being "pleased".

"Where is Professor Snape?" asked Peek as he gave a long stretch. If anyone was pleased, it was Peek. He _dreamed_. And not just a warping of reality as he accidentally dozed in class, but many full-on, unabashed, no-holds-barred, dreams. He even had what might have been a nightmare to one such as Peek - a dream about dreaming. "I have questions for him and I would like to say thank you. I really feel great, really great."

"You should come up with another word than 'Great'," said Ivy with a smile. "You're wearing that one out, just a bit."

Peek smiled. "Hey! I dreamed about you too, Ivy," said Peek.

"Oh?" said Ivy.

"Yes, you were dancing at a ball. You were wearing a red and yellow dress."

It was Dumbledore's and Pomfrey's turn to exchange glances. They gave light smiles and in their minds commented on the simple joys of youth.

"Scarlet and gold? I was dressed like a Gryffindor?" said Ivy with a curious face. She was a Ravenclaw.

"I guess," said Peek. "You were dancing with Gina."

"Would no boy ask me?" said Ivy with a mock-pouting face. "Not even one?"

"They were afraid to. You're too pretty. So is Gina."

Ivy ruffled Peek's hair as she gave a wink. "Really? We'll have to do something about that."

"You probably should," said Peek. "Or, you'll never get boyfriends."

Pomfrey turned to hide her smile. Dumbledore smiled too, and cleared his throat.

"Mr. Ferris-" began Dumbledore.

"'Peek', sir, if you please," said Peek in an overly pretentious voice. He was still seated in bed but gave a bow. A newfound giddiness was sweeping over him and he was being silly.

"Very well, Peek," said Dumbledore with a return bow. "I am glad to see you so well recovered. You had no trouble remembering to take your Malynoctulate potion-"

"Mally-nasty, potion, sir, if you please," interrupted Ivy. She was being silly too.

Dumbledore smiled again. "Forgive me, henceforth shall be known as 'Mally-nasty'. Madam Pomfrey please note."

"Duly noted, sir," said Pomfrey with a grin.

"If I may continue?" said Dumbledore.

Peek bowed again, indicating he should do so.

"You had no problems sneaking your Mally-nasty potion to stave off sleep, night after night. I expect you will have no problem taking a single drop of your sleep draft every night to affect, what we should say as the very opposite, yes? To _cause_ your sleep." Dumbledore gestured to the potion bottle on the bedside table.

"Yes sir," said Peek. "It will not be a problem."

Just then, a knock sounded on the open door. "I beg your pardon, Headmaster, Matron." It was Snape.

Professor Snape!" shouted Peek. He jumped out of the bed, crossed the room on tired wobbling legs, and gave Snape a hug around the waist.

Snape raised an eyebrow as he looked over to Dumbledore. Dumbledore chuckled lightly and shrugged his shoulders. Snape frowned, gave an irritated sigh, and attempted an appropriate response. He clasped Peek awkwardly on the shoulders and gave him a few awkward taps.

"Professor McGonagall sends her regrets, Headmaster. She is unable to join you here, as she is occupied with another matter concerning the Weasley twins - apparently, the statue of Helga Hufflepuff, outside the great hall, is…" Snape paused. "Flatulating."

Ivy's eyes sprung wide as Dumbledore's and Pomfrey's shoulders sagged in unison.

"I don't know what that means," whispered Peek as he released Snape and turned to Ivy.

"The statue is, um, _tooting_ from its backside," whispered Ivy who wanted to burst out in laughter. Truly, the Weasley twins were renowned for their extreme antics and base impropriety, not to mention daring and obvious disregard for establishment rules - not unlike herself, if Ravenclaw's social etiquette ever allowed. Still, she felt it best to maintain her civility in front of the adults and serve as an example for Peek, but a flatulating statue? Oh, how she wanted to laugh.

"A wise man once told me I should never wish away time," said Dumbledore, "but I wouldn't mind a speedy arrival to their graduating our dear school, while it manages what remains of its dignity."

"Here, here," said an exasperated Pomfrey.

"If I may continue," said Snape, "Professor McGonagall stills intends to take Mr. Ferris to the Express at four-thirty for the five o'clock departure."

At this, Ivy stood. "Wait, Peek just woke up and you're still sending him away?" She turned to Dumbledore. "Professor, sir, he's not ready."

"Ivy," said Peek. "It's fine. I'm ready for this. I'm more than ready."

"No, you've been asleep for three days!" cried Ivy. "You're not. You have unfinished business."

A change came over Ivy then. Three days she stood watch over the boy, ever vigilant, watching for the first hints of magic, a twitch of the eye or lifting of a finger, flickering of the candle flames or crackling of energies, that might warn of danger. It was she who tilted the potion bottle and let fall the drop that put Peek to sleep. He was her responsibility and the three days at his side cemented a bond.

"You need to see some people first," Ivy continued. "Katie Bell has checked on you, like, a dozen times. That Granger girl has been here. Oliver Wood was here but I threatened to blacken his eye if he stayed. Old man Filch checked on you." Ivy turned to Snape, "Sir, you've sat in this room for hours, too, with me, watching and waiting, every day and through every night. You told me he may be the best student you've ever taught. Surely, you don't just want to send him away."

"What I said, Miss Taggart," replied Snape, "Was that compared to your mediocre attempts at potion-making, Peek is the best I have ever taught. You would do well to understand my inference."

Dumbledore cleared his throat as a reminder he was still there. He didn't always agree with Snape's harsh approach to teaching or his harsh opinions of students.

Ivy turned to Dumbledore, "Sir, don't send him back. I've seen where he comes from."

"Ivy," said Peek. "It's okay. I feel awesome. This is nothing. I'll go back to London, take care of whatever I owe the Ministry, and I will be back in the fall. I promise. Really, Ivy, I have never felt like this for as long as I can remember. I feel _great_."

Ivy sighed and her shoulders drooped. "Madam Pomfrey, shouldn't we watch him longer? Just to make sure?"

Pomfrey gave a reassuring smile. "We knew the potion would either work fully or not at all, that is its nature so-to-speak. There is no in-between, and so there is no reason, treatment-wise, to keep him here."

"But what if he forgets?"

"I doubt the lad will ever forget, in all of his life, isn't that so, Peek?"

Peek nodded.

"But what if he runs out or the bottle is stolen? What if-"

"I have sent four full bottles and the recipe to his potions master, Master Millwater," said Snape, "just this morning, by an express owl."

"Yes, the young great horned is a fast creature," commented Dumbledore with a reassuring smile, "our fastest."

"But what if…" Ivy's voice trailed off. "What if Peek…"

"Ivy," said Peek. "I'll be alright. I need to get ready. I don't have long to pack."

"You're already packed," replied Ivy in a weak, defeated voice. She sat down again and looked at the floor. "I packed you up but I didn't really think they'd follow through with this."

Dumbledore stooped low to look into Ivy's eyes. "Peek will be alright," he said with a twinkle, "and so will you." He stood upright again and held his hand out for her to do the same. "Come, let's leave him to finish up."

Dumbledore took Ivy's hand and led her out of the room under her dispirited objection. Pomfrey finished her checks of Peek and she too left, leaving just Peek and Snape, who stood in awkward silence.

"I don't get Ivy, sometimes," said Peek at last. "She's kind of tough. She's not usually this, um…"

"Emotional?" offered Snape.

"Yes, emotional. That's it."

Snape paused for a moment as if debating a thought in his head and finally arriving at a decision.

"I have had numerous discussions with her in the last three days," said Snape. "She has reinforced my opinions on the wastefulness of youth, in their desires, passions, and obsessions."

Peek rumpled his face.

"But through the volumes of dribbles, I endured, I detected a need she has, _to be needed_. She has an absence that needs filling. She took great care of you while you slept, changing your bedding, walking you to the privy. Making you eat."

Snape paused again but continued after a moment. "Your friend, Miss Taggart, had two brothers. They were twins."

"She _has_ two brothers," corrected Peek. "She visits them practically every chance she gets."

"Her visits are to their graves, and to be with her mother and father who continue to grieve," said Snape. "They died in a muggle accident two summers ago. They were muggle and so are her parents. She might have saved them with a small bit of magic, the smallest of nudge as I have been told, but her attention was elsewhere."

"That's not possible," stammered Peek. "She would have told me."

Peek stood and stepped towards the door, to chase after Ivy, but Snape stopped him.

"It was, no doubt, personal to her, and should remain so. I spoke of it only so you do not blunder upon it again and continue the injury," said Snape with a small note of uncharacteristic sympathy. He scowled in his usual way, sighed heavily, and then gestured to Peek, to sit back down on the bed. "Mr. Ferris, we have certain abilities over the muggles and over our lives, and no doubt a greater sense of guilt, when the least or greatest of these abilities have been left unused or are arrived at too late to avoid consequence."

Peek rumpled his face again, as he struggled with the long statement. "She could have saved them, yes? Easily I'm guessing, but she didn't. She missed her chance. Right?"

Peek looked up at Snape who had a sense of vacancy as he stood looking into the flame of a nearby lamp, as if he was referring to his own inner secrets or some self-conviction and was distracted by them.

"I have to tell her I am sorry," said Peek. "I yelled at her when she was just trying to help me. I said I wasn't one of her brothers. I was scared and angry, professor. I didn't mean it."

Peek ran to the window and threw open the curtain. He looked down on the courtyard below as if Ivy would be there and he would commence beating on the window to get her attention.

"Ferris," called Snape. His severe tone stopped Peek short and turned him back around. "She has forgiven you already. I know this because she has sat with you most of the three days, without eating and with little sleep. She was unbending when I ordered her away and threatened her with expulsion. Believe me, you are forgiven."

Peek sat in silence considering Ivy but also considering Snape. There was more emotion from the professor, in the past thirty seconds, than Peek had known in all of the previous school term. "Professor-" Peek began but when he looked back at Snape, the stern, rigid professor persona was back, as if in a moment of weakness he showed a softer side, but the moment had passed.

"Change into something for traveling," growled Snape. "Be in front of the great hall in forty minutes. Professor McGonagall will take you to the Express. Do not be late"

"My things?" asked Peek as he looked around for any of his possessions.

"They are already packed and on the train."

 **End of Chapter 16**

* * *

Per usual, please leave your comments, whether bad or good. Should I include a summary before each chapter? Am I being too emotional? Are the kids too mature for being just kids? Do you have a question about Peek or Ivy? Let me know.


	17. Ch 17 - Waiting Before the Great Hall

**Chapter 17 – Waiting Before the Great Hall**

" _If there was a Hogwarts House for students with fabulous hair and perfect teeth, I'd be Head Boy."_

 _~Seamus Finnigan, pretending to be Draco Malfoy_

* * *

Peek arrived before the Great hall, a little early.

He had slept for three days. His short lifetime of sleepless nights was over, like a curse, having been broken. His mind was clearer than it had ever been. Gone was the fuzziness around the fringes of his thoughts. Gone was the struggle to maintain consciousness and keep from striking his head on the desk in class. His arms and legs had a vibrant energy. His heart leaped and jumped. He held his head high as he stood waiting for McGonagall and his trip back to London. He was being expelled from Hogwarts, perhaps for just the current term, perhaps he could return in the fall, but he felt great.

"You can take the rabble from the swill and the stench," drawled Draco Malfoy, "but you can't take the swill and the stench from the rabble."

Draco Malfoy was the first to notice Peek standing alone, out of his robes, with a light Gryffindor House jacket over his arm. Crabbe and Goyle were ever-present, like dogs at their master's feet.

"Hello Draco," said Peek with a smile. Even the Malfoy boy wasn't going to spoil his good mood.

"Don't you ever use my name again!" growled Draco. "You're a thug, from the streets. Go back where you belong."

"I am going," said Peek. "I'm leaving now, right now."

Draco looked Peek up and down and when it was clear there would be no sport in further insults, he moved on. "Good."

"Let's go," he said to Crabbe and Goyle. "It stinks and I've lost my appetite."

Draco and his two henchmen turned and strode away, but not before Crabbe and Goyle both gave Peek a sour look. They hadn't lost _their_ appetites. Peek had just cost them their dinners.

The light confrontation left a small throng of students standing there, watching Peek and wondering what he would do.

Peek had held a knife to Katie Bell's neck when they fought. And during the scuffle, he began the casting of a spell that anyone who had read Gilderoy Lockhart's written works (and who wouldn't have?) would have known to be dangerous and almost certainly deadly. Rumors were rampant; would Peek be expelled or would he be de-wanded permanently, defrocked, as it were, and thrown out the front gates? Would he be given a one-way ticket to Azkaban?

"Is that true?" demanded a Slytherin. A nearby class must have ended recently because a sizable group of Slytherins was in attendance. "You're going back to the gutters, you wandless excuse for a half-pint wizard?"

Ivy, a sixth-year girl who befriended Peek, had taken his wand after she stopped him from casting the deadly spell on Katie Bell. He let her take it, willingly, and did not look for it to be returned.

"Or, are they throwing you in the big suck?" continued the student. 'The Big Suck' was a pet name for Azkaban, where the dementor guards sucked away humanity from the fettered guests.

"I am going home," said Peek, unruffled. "And, you might be the first student in the whole of this year, who called me a wizard." Peek smiled. "I'd call that progress."

The Slytherin stepped close, threateningly. "I called you a half-pint wizard - it's not the same," he growled.

He spit on the floor between Peek's feet, held Peek's eyes in a menacing stare, and then strode away. "Good riddance," he said over his shoulder, back at Peek.

It was Hufflepuffs turn, a surprising follow to the Slytherin.

"You were given a chance, Parker Ferris, and you left a stain on Hogwarts as a result. You showed your true colors."

"They weren't my colors," said Dren Felcrups, a Gryffindor, who wore a larger version of Peek's same jacket. "They weren't scarlet and they weren't gold." He took the jacket off Peek's arm, slowly, as if daring Peek to protest. "You don't get to keep this."

Peek smiled at all of them, with good reason. He was a child who should not have lived beyond the age of a toddler. But live he did, if the half-awake, half-cognizant existence could be called such. He was a Pernoctal-Olimag, a 'dream-charmer, or 'sleep-caster', who would have died in his sleep, years before, if not for an outlawed potion that kept him awake through the nights. And yet, sleep he did, for the first time in years, aided by the brilliant craft of Professor Snape. Peek was happy beyond measure, and a throng of gawking students would not change this.

Of course, Katie Bell might. She had his knife wound on her neck until Madam Pomfrey removed it.

"Katie," said Peek, "I'm glad you're here. I am very sorry. I shouldn't have-"

"Don't speak," said Katie as she descended upon the tiny first-year.

Professor Snape told Peek that the so-called "Maly-nasty" potion he had used for years, kept him from growing and that he might soon experience a spurt of rapid growth. But even if he'd grown five inches overnight, it would not have saved him from looking like a mouse before a mountain lion. Katie Bell loomed.

"Peek, I am sorry," said Katie. She turned to the other students. "Go on," she snapped. "There's nothing to see here."

The Slytherins scoffed at Katie. Never, would be the day Slytherins listened to a Gryffindor. They moved on, but only because Katie didn't provide entertainment by pulverizing the little kid.

"You disappoint, 'Graff'," said an older Slytherin, "per the usual."

Others, the outspoken Hufflepuff, his friend, and a curious Ravenclaw, shuffled away in turn.

Katie ignored the other students and turned back to Peek.

"I shouldn't have put you through all of that. I'm at fault here, and you're being sent home because of it. To London, right?"

"Yeah, London," said Peek. "I'm kinda South-East, by the river. It's nice."

"Not from what I heard."

Peek shrugged.

"Listen, Peek, I was angry. My mom's cousin was killed by a death-eater, one of _his_ followers." Katie avoided referencing Voldemort directly. The dark wizard was gone ten years but the potency of his reign was still ever-present. "Horrible things were done to him - just horrible. They humiliated him and it's hard to be a Gryffindor, you know, proud and courageous, when one of your own suffered like that. You wanna strike back. You wanna hurt someone. You want vengeance on the death-eaters but they're all gone - disappeared. I try to take it out on the Slytherin's in the Quidditch pitch because everyone knows they're parents are all a bunch of death-eaters, but it's not enough. It's never enough.

"And that is where I came in," offered Peek.

"Yeah, your people sided with _him_. You were closest to the real thing and no one was gonna say boo if I beat on you. But that was a weakness, wasn't it? It was a failure of character and not at all like a Gryffindor."

Peek shrugged again.

"I beat up on the smallest kid in the whole school," continued Katie. "I'm ashamed. I really blew it and now you're paying for it."

"Katie, I had a knife to your neck and I cut you with it. I'm paying for that. It didn't matter what you did."

"But, you wouldn't have done it if I hadn't pushed you into it."

Peek paused. "I think you're probably right, but I was also casting a Vissectus Bifforracium at you. You know what it does, right? It slices you up inside."

Katie thought for a moment. "I don't know that any of us could cast something like that and make it work, but if you had, I would have deserved it."

"I guess I thought it would work in the moment," said Peek. "It felt like it was working like other spells do when they work. But using it on someone, even if it didn't work, is not something that can be excused."

It was Katie's turn to shrug. "Well, I certainly appreciate not being dead," she said with a cautious smile. "So, how do we move past this?"

"We can shake hands, and I'll see you in the fall."

"You're coming back?" asked Katie. There was sincerity in her voice as if Peek's future return meant some level of reparations might be possible.

"I think so. I have to meet with some ministry people and sort it through, but yeah, I should be back. Dumbledore thinks so and Snape's given me homework to do."

"That sounds pretty solid," said Katie with a better smile. "Okay, I'll show you around the quidditch pitch when you're here and I'll try to get you front row seats in our match against Slytherin. Whattaya say?"

"I'd like that," said Peek. In truth, he wasn't overly thrilled about Quidditch. He would be hard-pressed to name three players from the national teams. Still, it was a welcomed change from Katie, and Peek thought better than spoiling it with his unpopular opinion.

"Okay," said Katie with another smile. "I gotta run or I'm going to be late. We'll see you in the fall." Katie held out her hand and Peek shook it. "Later, _Puke_ ," she said with a final smile and a wave. Katie still needed to be Katie.

Word had spread fast of Peek's fight with Katie and the two other Gryffindors. Now, word was making the rounds on his being sacked and standing outside the great hall. Oliver Wood stopped by with encouraging words. The Weasley twins unloaded several pockets full of sneezy gum, the first of many hand-crafted, specialty items, into Peek's book bag. "Try them with the Muggles and let us know if they're safe - or at least not overly dangerous."

Ivy was next. She was out of her robes, as older students sometimes were, during idle time. She was wearing faded American Jeans, an untucked/unbuttoned flannel shirt, and an undersized Sid & Nancy t-shirt.

"Who are Sid and Nancy?" asked Peek.

"I honestly don't know but they're supposed to be big on anti-establishment, which I'm feeling right now."

"Is it your shirt? I've never seen you wear it."

"No, a friend lent it to me. He's a bit of a trouble-maker. He puts on his muggle gear to annoy the pure-blood whack-ohs."

"A Ravenclaw does this?"

"Oh no, he's one of the Hufflepuffs."

'The Hufflepuffs take anybody' as the saying goes. Peek wondered sometimes, why he wasn't sorted in with the Hufflepuffs. He had courage and fight in him, as Katie Bell learned, but he might have been accepted by the Happy-Puffs, more for who he was than what his people had done. He might have made a better run at success in any other house than the one he was leaving.

Peek rumpled his face at the gritty, stencil-like image on Ivy's shirt. "Sid looks really angry."

"No less than me. I'm not happy with decisions around here and I don't feel like wearing Hogwarts 'policy'."

"So you're protesting?"

"I am."

Peek smiled. This was a new side of Ivy but wholly unnecessary. Peek had never felt better. In fact, he was ready to get back to London, get that part over with, and begin anew. Peek didn't want trouble for Ivy. The faster he left, the quicker all of this would die down. His parting relied on Professor McGonagall. He looked up and down the hall for her.

"Anyway," said Ivy as she dug into her pocket. "Look at this. Snape finished our Essence of Dittany potion while you were sleeping and while I was with you. He said, 'One of you, at least, knows what you're doing.' I'm sure he was talking about you, but he gave us both full marks. We didn't even finish it." Ivy smiled. "Full marks and you did all the work. So here, take it." Ivy handed the bottle to Peek and curled his fingers around it to keep it hidden from the other students. "I sneaked out a small bottle. I..umm... _spilled_ some while decanting, you might say, but not as much as Snape thinks." Ivy smiled mischievously. "You might need it where you're going. I know it is rough down there."

Peek smiled "I can't have this," he said as he returned it to Ivy's hand. "It's illegal to own by any of my lot - I'm sure I'll be searched."

Ivy frowned but accepted the bottle back. "It won't always be like this, Peek. It will change. You'll see."

Peek nodded. He knew things would change in time. People would continue to settle down into their lives. The thoughts of Voldemort and his dark followers would fade into the history books and in time, the "Ministry Managed" - Peek and others like him, would be released from their bottom-rung status and allowed to blend back into the wizarding norm. Or, maybe not."

"Here is a thought, though," said Peek. "Could you give that to Hermione Granger?"

"Granger? Why?"

"She asked about it sometimes. She researched some versions of the recipe and was following along as we progressed, asking about our techniques and making suggestions. She's really smart and was excited about my success. It wasn't much, but she was the only one I spoke to in Gryffindor - other than Katie, of course."

Ivy smiled, "...And we know how well that went."

Peek returned the smile and nodded.

"Then I will make sure she gets it," said Ivy. "But, she'd better hide it and keep it to herself. Snape will flip if he finds out about it. One sniff from that big nose of his and he'll know it was ours."

Peek smiled again. Yes, Snape would know the subtleties of one hand stirring over another or the quality of ingredients used, from a single sniff of the finished product. It was likely that same nose could tell which potions in southeast London were brewed by Peek, while serving old Mr. Millwater, and which were not.

"Who knows," continued Ivy, "maybe she'll need it one day."

 **End of Chapter 17**


	18. Ch 18 - To London by Way of Manchester

**Chapter 18 - To London by Way of Manchester**

" _They can call it a_ _'steam cloud'_ _or they can call it a 'condensation vapor cloud'. The former is universally understood by muggles while the latter gets your child punched in the nose and their lunch money taken by thugs, on the playground."_

 _~A quote taken from the book, "Teaching Your Non-Magic Child to Fit in with the Muggles"_

* * *

Professor McGonagall arrived to accompany Peek to the Hogwarts Express, but not before Ivy gave him a great hug.

"Ivy...," said Peek when the hug went a little long.

Ivy released Peek and gave him a kiss on the forehead, at which Peek flushed a slight red in the cheeks.

"If you're done saying your goodbyes," said McGonagall, "we need to be on our way."

"But wait, Ivy," said Peek with a hurried voice, "I'm sorry about your brothers. I didn't know they died. I shouldn't have said what I did."

Ivy smiled affectionately. Peek had been frightened when she tried to help him. She often treated him like a little brother, and Peek had shouted that he was not one. Peek was unaware she had lost her brothers in a muggle accident and had long grieved for them.

"I never told you they died, did I?" said Ivy. It was more of a statement than a question.

Peek shook his head "I know you loved them. You talk about them all the time. I just assumed..."

"I still love them. Death doesn't change that. Never."

Peek nodded his understanding.

"And no need to be sorry. We're already beyond that, you and I, right?"

Peek smiled. "Right."

McGonagall cleared her throat, as a reminder of their need to depart. Ivy gave Peek another hug

"Ivy, stop," said Peek. "That's not what students do."

"Give hugs?" asked Ivy as she released Peek. "Sure they do. It's what I do to my favorites." Ivy reached out and gave Peek a final tussle of his hair.

Peek frowned.

"Go on then," said Ivy with a final smile.

McGonagall walked Peek out the main entrance and down to the front gate. There, she bid Peek hold tight to her arm and by disapparating, arrived in Hogsmeade to catch the Hogwarts Express on its journey south. It was Peek's first time traveling by way of disapparation. He was quite sure he didn't like it.

"You have only minutes to board, Mr. Ferris. Your bags are in one of these cars, somewhere."

Please call me Peek," said Peek.

McGonagall gave a slight smile. "Peek, this did not play out as we would have hoped," she said as she ushered Peek towards the nearest steps. The Hogwarts Express stretched out before them in either direction. The engine, upfront, belched out great plumes of smoke and steam as it readied for its journey. The platform was near empty. "I think the country is still wounded over _his_ rise to power; of Voldemort's rise, that is. But if any single place could be the guiding way for healing, I would have liked it to be Hogwarts."

"I think that if healing was your intention, ma'am," replied Peek, "then someone other than me should have been recruited. I've never been known for fitting in, let alone healing whatever this is; trust, a rift, friendship, wounds?."

"No, you were the right choice. My name was on your Hogwarts invitation and I stand by it. But as I said, it did not play out as we hoped."

Peek shrugged and boarded the train, but turned at the top landing. His face was different. The moment his foot left the station platform and the space between foot and paver separated him from Hogwarts, a light emotion swept over him.

"Professor, I have no regrets and I am indebted, to be sure. All in all, I liked it here." But, Peek's voice dipped with a serious tone. "You should know, ma'am, nothing about my world is ever 'Play', not to me. I know it is just a word you chose, but really, it is not a word I would ever choose for myself. It's just not."

"Ferris…" McGonagall began but she paused and took a deep breath. "Peek, go back to London. Go back and fix what needs to be fixed, do the schoolwork you've been given, and avoid trouble. _I_ will fix what needs to be fixed here at Hogwarts and when you return in the fall, _this_ will work. The headmaster and I will make it work."

"Will I be a Gryffindor?" asked Peek.

"I will demand it," replied McGonagall.

Peek nodded but inside, he still wanted to be a Ravenclaw.

Katie Bell had bullied him for most of Peek's stay at Hogwarts and it was the final confrontation with her that ended with Peek's expulsion. He and Katie left on better terms, sealed with a hearty handshake. Peek felt that no other issue was so severe that it couldn't be remedied or at least survived when he returned. In truth, he looked forward to the start of his second year, in the fall. He was excellent at potion-making, better than any first year in living memory, and he hoped to continue his studies with Professor Snape.

He could not have known that when next he returned to Hogwarts, it would be six years later, it would be under the flag of war, and it would be deep within the realm of life and death peril.

* * *

The Hogwarts Express railed its way down from the north, through the English countryside, on its way to Manchester, which was the only stop before its London destination. The weather was fair and the late afternoon sky gave way to the evening dusk. Peek found his bags in the lead car behind the engine and took a seat there. There were no individual cabins on this car, just eight rows of open seats. It was no matter for Peek because he was alone - likely the only student on the train. He was curious about who or what the engineer might be but not enough to get up and find out. He watched as an endless number of fields, houses, and streets whipped by and receded into the darkness behind.

The car grew dark which caused Peek to stand and look to the lamps hanging in each of the corners. But before he took a step, however, a small creature pushed through the door and with the snap of his fingers lit the lamps. Peek had never met a house elf but knew this was one by the tattered clothes he wore, by his long elf-like ears, and the wandless use of magic. The house-elf stood an inch taller than Peek, which confirmed many students' assertions. Yes, house-elves were in fact, taller than he.

"Hello," said Peek with a smile.

The house-elf bowed while walking, but said nothing and did not stop, as he hurried off to light up the next car. Peek wasn't surprised. He had heard from somewhere that house-elves were not to mingle with the students. Peek shrugged and returned to his seat.

The next three hours droned along while Peek sat quietly. He looked through the homework he was given. He didn't care much for other studies and skipped right through to Potions. He was given three recipes; Magdinite - Liquid Flew Grease, Shoe Polish for Ghosts, and an all-purpose snake anti-venom. He received a list of ingredients that could be locally sourced, small pouches of ingredients that could not, and additional instructions that supported the recipes. He was given three potions books, none of which were official Hogwarts text, but all of which covered advanced potioning. A hand towel tied by a leather throng unrolled to reveal several knives, a tall eye-dropper device, a bone-handled scratch-awl, tweezers, pincers, and various spoons and ladles.

All of the items were old, but cleaned, sharpened as needed, polished, and were well cared for. The scratch awl had the letters S.S. carved with great precision, into the handle. These were Snape's old utensils - or at least one of the items was. The others, lacking any particular identifiers, might have been lost of left behind by previous students. All the same, Peek was thrilled.

The old potioning instruments reminded Peek of the old Donlevy cauldron he had brought to Hogwarts. It was dented and pitted and might have passed for scrap metal to some, but was in fact, an ancient relic designed by the legendary wizard, Merlin. It was an incredible marvel of antiquity, that drew great excitement from the older students. It was, however, an object of value, priceless in fact, of which people like Peek were not allowed to own. Professor Snape was required to confiscate it on behalf of the ministry.

"Mr. Millwater gave me that cauldron," said Peek to himself, "it was his best one, but none of us could have known what it was - not where I come from. Now, I'm returning without it."

Peek removed a bit of parchment, quill, and ink from his bag. He dipped the quill and drew out what he could remember of the cauldron - doodling to pass the time.

Just after midnight, the house-elf returned.

"My profound and sincere apologies, good sir…" said the elf with a deep bow.

Peek stood to address the elf. "No apologies needed. How can I help?"

The elf hesitated and bowed again. "No help is needed sir, but kind of you to ask. No, you should know that we are nearing Manchester and that you should make ready for a visitor."

"Who?" asked Peek, "Here, on the train?"

"Lord Westenbrooke sir," said the elf. "You are to meet him on the platform when we arrive, if you please."

Peek's mind snapped back to the Donlevy cauldron. The old relic had been taken from Peek, but Pontrice, Lord Westenbrooke's son, had told him that if Peek was willing to, his parents would arrange a sale between them. Peek did not recall ever agreeing, but Lord Westingbrooke would have no other reason to seek him out.

The house-elf produced a muggle suit and adjusted the fit with snaps of the fingers and winks of the eyes. He widened the shoulders and lengthened the sleeves and pant legs using practical house-elf magic.

"You are bigger than I was told, sir - taller," said the elf. "No matter." With a final snap of the fingers, the suit fell into place on Peek's frame, like a well-tailored and well-fitted suit, shirt, and tie. Shoes walked over on their own accord and turned themselves around in front of Peek. They laced themselves up as Peek stepped into them.

The elf stood back and asked Peek to turn in place. The fit was as good as any muggle tailor might provide.

"If I may, sir," said the elf, "You have only three minutes once we arrive. We need to be in London and gone before the muggle morning commute."

Peek didn't know what a "muggle morning commute" was, but nodded his understanding as if he did. Peek had no idea what to say to Lord Westingbrooke. He wondered if the meeting would last longer than thirty seconds.

The Hogwarts Express chugged into Manchester, bound for the Deansgate Railway Station. Peek loved the look of London at night, with all the lights like earthbound stars, thousands and thousands, in geometric order, shooting out in their ordered directions. Manchester was equally splendid from his view on the train, though Peek knew the two cities were far different in size. There was a great part of Peek that longed for a return to the city - any city.

Three minutes, sir," reminded the elf as Peek stepped down into a rolling cloud from the hissing steam engine.

Peek stood before two figures - Pontrice, the Ravenclaw from Peek's potions class, stood with his father.

"I don't know what to do," said Peek as he stepped up to the pair. "Am I supposed to bow?"

"That's not necessary," said Pontrice with a light smile, "but you do need to call this man _Lord_ Westingbrooke. He's my father."

Lord Westingbrooke was tall, with squared shoulders, strong chin, and gray-peppered hair. He was a handsome, capable-looking man, in a handsome muggle suit.

"Hello Peek," said Westingbrooke as he sized up the former student. "I am pleased to meet you."

"And you too, Lord Westingbrooke," said Peek.

"My son has told me much about you." Westingbrooke smiled. "He says you are a young master of potions."

Peek reddened in the cheeks but did not reply. He didn't know if he had to say "Lord Westingbrooke" every time he spoke, or "My Lord", or if "Sir" sufficed.

"Well," said Westingbrooke after a short pause. "We've little time so I will be plain. I spoke to Master Millwater, your old potions master-"

"You met Mr. Millwater?" exclaimed Peek.

'I did. He is your new guardian, as I have been told. We had tea and we discussed the cauldron you brought to Hogwarts. Do you remember it?"

Peek nodded.

"And with your permission - Master Millwater was clear on this - I will purchase it-"

"But sir, it is no longer mine. It's not mine to sell."

Westingbrooke smiled as he continued, "It is an item which at the time in question, was merely an old pot - nothing more. It looks like a Donlevy according to my son, and may, in fact, _be_ a Donlevy. Who can say? Professor Snape, charming fellow-," Westingbrooke made a face that indicated light sarcasm, "was ' _delayed'_ in giving the cauldron over to the ministry - a favor he has done for me and is well appreciated.

Since the cauldron has not been officially authenticated, the cauldron is _still_ merely an old pot - valueless until proven otherwise, if you take my meaning. The ministry acted without hard evidence, and you, my young friend, should have received that old pot back, upon your departure. Fortunately for you, I hope, I am willing to pay 250,000 galleons for it. I'll take ownership of it, here and now, and save you the trip back to Hogwarts, to collect it. How does that sound?"

"Peek," added Pontrice, "my dad's people will set up a fund to support the whole 'Ministry Managed' population - your people. You are not allowed to have wealth, we know this, but 250,000gl divided by six-hundred or so of your lot, spread out over time-"

"If you're willing," added Lord Westingbrooke.

"If you're willing," added Pontrice with a nod, "...can't be called 'wealth' and therefore beyond the ministry reach. If we do this right, your people will never go hungry again."

"What say ya, lad?" asked Westingbrooke with a cheering smile.

Peek searched for words. "I don't know what to say."

"Say 'yes'," said Pontrice.

Peek staggered. "But what if it's not a Donlevy?"

"Oh, it's a Donlevy," said Westingbrooke. "I had my man look at it, but the ministry doesn't need to know that." He smiled again and winked.

The Hogwarts Express engine belched out a great steam cloud and gave a deep hiss. The house-elf, back at the door, looked nervously at the timepiece he held on a chain.

"What about Mr. Millwater...?" said Peek. The offer was an impossible dream for a boy who spent a lifetime not dreaming.

"He has left the decision with you," said Westingbrooke. "Do we have a deal?"

Westingbrooke held out his hand. Peek shook it.

"Done," said Peek. "A thousand times - done."

Peek took Pontrice's hand and shook it with great vigor. "Thank you Pontrice or Lord Pontrice or whatever you are!"

Peek turned back to Westingbrooke. "Mr. West...I mean sir, lord…thank you!"

Westingbrooke laughed. "My pleasure, Peek. Now I think you need to hop back aboard or you'll miss your ride home."

"Home," Peek repeated. Suddenly the word had new meaning. He never had a home, save a nook, or a doorway, or flea-ridden bedding in the hollows of a broken building. He lived with Mr. Millwater often, but ministry raids or warnings of them sent him running or into hiding, always.

"Home".

 **End of Chapter 18**

 **"Leave a comment - feed an Introvert"**


	19. Ch 19 - Peek's Nightmare

**Chapter 19 - Peek's Nightmare**

 _"Dream big or don't dream at all, as if there is a choice."_

 _~Peek_

Warning to very young readers - This final chapter is Peek's involvement in the Battle for Hogwarts, which includes some battle violence and death.

* * *

Peek had spent most of his young life avoiding sleep - taking potions nightly, to stave off the need. His problem was that he could cast simple spells in his sleep, in response to dreams. Nightmares, in particular, could be deadly, not just for him, but others around him - he burned down a vacant building as a toddler. He and his family had taken shelter there, from the cold. They escaped with their lives but lost the few possessions they had.

Professor Snape crafted a potion that changed the way Peek dreamed. Under the potion's effects, Peek's dreams played out like a movie to a second layer of Peek's awareness, so he dreamed of himself dreaming. This double-layer prevented magic from binding to the spoken word, whether made out loud or in a dream, effectively nullifying magic before it could develop. It was a genius-made potion that only the likes of Snape could have concocted. But, it was too little and too late.

The research and experimentation took more than a year and the potion was not ready before Peek's arrival at Hogwarts. Instead, its completion was a parting gift to the young wizard because Peek had been expelled from the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

 _Peek was on the Hogwarts Express, steaming through the very early hours of the morning, and bound for London. He was new to dreaming and when sleep tugged at the corners of his eyes, finally, he welcomed the needful slumber and the opportunity to dream._

* * *

"What are you doing here!" shouted Peek.

Peek stood on a low grassy hill-rise with the lake to his left, the woods to his right, and Hogwarts behind him. Hogwarts was preparing for battle and the land-features created a channel from where an assault by Voldemort, or part of it, would likely begin.

Peek was tall and strong and stood rigid like an oak tree while surveying the approach. He had shoulder-length, wavy, dark brown hair and the beginnings of a beard on his war-hardened but young face. His faded jeans were torn and tattered. His faded shirt was a green button-up with sleeves rolled to the elbows. Both items were soiled with the stains of blood. He had scars, many. He had fresh wounds too, with some being less than a day old.

Peek did not return to Hogwarts to continue his education. Funds from the Donlevy cauldron sale were used to create the "Byron Millwater Center for Witchcraft and Wizardry", a tutoring venue for young witches and wizards who remained Ministry-barred from attending Hogwarts. The center was deep in the heart of London and Peek, "Potioner's Apprentice", taught students, young and old. The non-magical students, "Squibs" to others, attended as well. These were the secret keepers; children who would likely integrate with the muggles and keep the wizarding world hidden from the muggle world. These children were taught muggle subjects to fit in at muggle schools or learned skills for gainful employment in the wizarding world, should they choose. They had options.

Professor Dumbledor and others like him rallied behind the center and visited on many occasions. Other professors from Hogwarts, such as McGonagall and Sprout, and ministry employees like Arthur Weasley helped develop a diverse curriculum that served all of the children.

When Voldemort returned, Peek turned his energies on training himself and others for war. Voldemort did not find a welcome mat in London, as he had in the past. His minions did not garner a small army of squibs and near-mages with promises of food and better social status.

When Peek returned to Hogwarts, it was with forty-five able souls - all of them veterans of death-eater clashes and countless battles with other Voldemort followers. Many could not cast spells beyond typical use but all of them learned to close with their enemies in the streets and alleyways of London, and found a knife-thrust to be as lethal as any wand. The shadow war, unknown to the muggles, expanded all over Britain but the London back-streets never fell to Voldemort and his puppet machinations.

Here at Hogwarts, however, on the open slopes leading up to the castle, there was no cover, no protection from errant spells, nevermind the well-aimed. The Londoners turned to building construction works - walls and fortifications and fighting holes or "fox-holes" like the muggle armies dug when defending against attack. Death-Eaters and those who joined them might stroll up to the castle, arm-in-arm, dancing and laughing if they pleased, but they would find death when they drew near

"Peek! Look at you!" cried Ivy. "By Merlin's left little pinky, you're a grown man now!" Ivy grabbed Peek by his hands and circled with him in place, as two children might do in play.

Ivy was a tall witch with long flowing red hair. She was strong, like a dedicated runner or gymnast. She wore the skirt and blouse of a serving maid from an ancient house, both were tidy and pressed but of old tradition and long since out of fashion. Hogwarts was readying for siege and there was no one person who looked more out of place than Ivy Taggart; Hogwarts graduate and former Ravenclaw.

Ivy remembered when the young man before her was a small, little, first-year who had been restricted in growth by the illegal potions he had been taking to avoid sleep. Those issues well behind him, his body caught up to where it should have been. The young man was now tall and strong and handsome.

"Ivy, stop it," hissed Peek as he swatted her hands away. "Goodness, woman. We're at war."

Ivy laughed. "And you, a leader of wizards and witches." She turned towards the young men and women building the defenses. She pumped her fist in the air and shouted, "Warriors, all of you!"

The Londoners gave a roaring cheer in return. These rough and tumble men and women of the streets were sporting for battle and their enthusiasm overbrimmed at the slightest provocation.

Peek caught hold of Ivy's shoulder and turned her back around. "Why are you here? I sent you an owl - many owls. I told you to stay away. I told you I dreamt all of this."

"I remember," said Ivy. "You told me I would die here. You dreamed of it on your train ride back to London. It was a prophecy. I've never forgotten." She paused to greet two men, one young and one older, as they carried a large wooden beam past. Their features were gaunt and their faces were grim but they warmed at her servant-girl attire and her infectious smile.

"Ma'am," said the first as he nodded.

"Ma'am," said the second. He touched his forehead in a light salute.

Ivy gave a short, old-world curtsy, in homage to the outfit she wore, which pulled smiles from the haggard faces.

"Ma'am?" said Ivy when the men had moved away. "I'm only twenty-two years old." She laughed again. "That first fellow is older than me by at least five years." Ivy looked back at the two. "He's a good looker - a bit thin but I know how to cook…a little."

"Ivy," said Peek as he snapped his fingers in front of her face. "You gotta go."

Ivy's smile faded. "Look, Peek. I'm a muggle-born."

"I know you're muggle-born," said Peek.

"They caught me and they _gave me_ to a pure-blood house - the Dethnals. Do you know them?"

Peek shook his head. "Their name sounds familiar. It sounds like 'Death-Knell' - like a bell tolling death."

"All their names sound like they have dark meanings; Malfoy, Mulcifer, Darken, Crucibell, Gorelist, McCahberr. I could name dozens."

"Snape," added Peek.

"Yeah, him too. I'm sorry Peek. I know you admired him - for potions anyway."

Peek nodded.

Anyway, ' _Master_ ' Dethnal is an animal. I spent the last six months with, 'Yes, Master Dethnal', 'No, Master Dethnal', 'Keep your filthy hands off me, Master Dethnal'." Ivy spat on the ground. "I'm not going back. I'll die here, Peek. I'm okay with that."

"But Ivy, I'm not-"

"Oh and if Mr. High and Mighty, Pure-blood, Dethnal just happens to show up here," interrupted Ivy, "I'll kill him first, then I can die here. I'm _really_ okay with that."

"Ivy-" Peek began.

"Do you remember? I can cast a little magic without a wand, just like you.

"Ummm, I can't so much anymore," replied Peek. "It went away as I got older."

"Well I still can, and I really had fun with it." Ivy gave a mocking look of concern and changed her voice to a sweet and innocent tone, "Oh Master Dethnal, I really have no idea how you got hit in the head with a granite bookend. Maybe it just fell off the bookshelf by itself - oh, and, I don't think you'll need your wand, while you recover."

"Ivy, I know you don't-" Peek began, but his comment was left unfinished. The first of the Voldemort's army arrived and were melted by the perimeter spells surrounding the castle.

A moment later -

" _I know that you are preparing to fight…_ " echoed in Peeks and Ivy's ears. It was Voldemort.

"Who the hell is that!" growled Peek as he clapped his hands over his ears.

"I think it's _him_ ," said Ivy with a cringe. "I think it's Voldemort."

"How is he doing this?" Peek rubbed his forehead and his temples. "It's like he's speaking from everywhere...and nowhere."

"Hang on," said Ivy with squinting eyes as if reeling from a headache. She waved her wand and called out "Pesoe-aFausio-d'Obligiate"

Ivy finished the spell with a slow swish of her wand.

" _Your efforts are futile. You cannot…,_ " the voice continued and then was silenced.

Peek breathed out a heavy breath. "It worked," he said as he shook his head. "That's a handy spell."

"It is. Fishmongers in Bristol can get in your head the same way. It's some ' _secret'_ spell only they know - it blocks them."

Peek shook his head again. "You were in Bristol - What? Buying fish for dear Mr. Death-knell?"

"No, it was before him, hiding by the docks and trying to get away. Maybe to the States, but really, anywhere."

Peek nodded.

"There were a lot of us that ended up there, trying to escape. That's where I was caught. We were easy pickings for the death-eaters or whoever they were, I think all of us together in one place was a bad idea."

Peek looked back to the Londoners. He could see by their expressions that they were still listening to Voldemort.

"Keep working!" Peek shouted. "Don't listen to the crap in your head. Focus on getting us ready. Focus on the defenses."

Peek turned back to Ivy. "There's no getting you out now. They will have ringed us in or will soon enough."

Ivy gave a scoffing laugh. "There was no getting me out before this." She tapped Peek on the chest with Master Dethnal's wand. "Not if I didn't want to go."

Peek and Ivy walked the short distance back up to the castle, where the Londoners built ground-level battlements to hide behind and to spring from when the attackers closed in. Those who could cast spells were posted at the ready, intending to cover the field with hexes, curses, wounding, and killing spells. Those who could not cast, or could not cast well, waited undercover, ready to assist the spellcasters, but they also waited with knives, clubs, and axes, for the hand-to-hand battle that would likely follow.

"He wants Harry Potter!" shouted one of the Londoners. He was a young hot-head wearing a thick jacket and heavy layers of cloth across his chest from shoulder to waist, like a highland-man. He was also wrapped in aluminum foil over much of his body, as others were, believing it helped deflect spells. "Send me to him, Boss-man, and I'll shove this knife up his - "

"Slow down, Ed," shouted Peek with a laugh. "Save it for the battle."

"I got plenty to spare, Boss-man," Ed shouted back. "Plenty."

"Boss-man," repeated Ivy with another smile. "It fits you."

Peek shrugged and then pushed and pulled on a large piece of plate steel to test its strength. It was half-buried to stand on end, along with a dozen others, to create a barricade.

"Fortifico Rigales," said Peek as he waved his wand. The large steel plates glowed for a moment, they stretched out to one another, and their edges welded together.

"I see you have your own handy spells," said Ivy but with a note of concern. She lowered her voice. "It's muggle-made, right? This metal? All of this?"

"Much of it is," said Peek."Yes."

"Peek, anyone can brush them aside like cobwebs."

Most muggle-made items could be unmade or manipulated with common spells. Ivy proved this, years earlier when she pulled down a fire-escape from the side of a building without using a wand. Construction works made with muggle materials, like the barricade, would have to be bolstered with fortifying spells, many of which the Londoners knew so well they could cast them blindfolded.

"They'll hold," Peek added.

"I see you're still packing that walnut-thirteen," said Ivy as she pointed to the battle-worn wand in Peek's hand. "It's like an ogre club, you know, like the kind they hit with, not the nightclub kind they gather in."

Peek rumpled his face. "Gather? Ogres?"

"You know, like a gathering? A group? A Glee Club, except for ogres?" Ivy sighed. "Nevermind, I'm just noting that you still have it. Others like me, for example, had ours taken from us."

Peek had purchased the long, oversized wand from Olivander before his first year at Hogwarts. It was confiscated after his fight with Katie Bell but he found it in his bag when he arrived back in London. It was rigid and unyielding and suited Peek well.

Peek nodded. "Yeah, well, I still have it. I like it. It likes me."

Ivy nodded. "I put it back in your bag. Did you know that?"

Peek shook his head. "I thought McGonagall did."

"No, it was on Dumbledor's desk, right in plain sight when you were expelled. Remember? All the heads of houses were there? I swiped it when they were focused on you. In truth, I think Dumblefor saw me. He didn't miss anything - except you not coming back to Hogwarts, I suppose."

"Yeah," Peek agreed. "He and I spoke on that, later. I found my place down in London. They needed me."

"Parker Ferris?" A winded voice called from behind him and Ivy. A young man had run up from around the front side of the castle. He had his wand out but held it with a shaking hand. He wore a shirt with the Hufflepuff colors and a small embroidered badger on the left side of his chest.

"Kingsley Shacklebolt sent me," said the young man. "He needs ten of your men and women to support the south bastion."

Peek had met Shacklebolt several times before. Shacklebolt had come to London to organize resistance against the ministry after the fall of the previous Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour. Peek was one of several leaders Shacklebolt was pleased to find already in place, organized and opposing Voldemort's expansion. Shacklebolt was a powerful Auror who Peek was more than willing to follow.

"Ten?" said Peek. "I had hoped to keep us together, to fight as a team."

"We have to defend all approaches," said the Hufflepuff with a nervous voice. "If one falls, we all fall. Mr. Shacklebolt said this in case you said 'no'."

Peek nodded and let out a heavy breath. Shacklebolt was not wrong. Any good defense rested on holding a perimeter around a central core and keeping the enemy out of it. Losing the core exposed the perimeter defenders to attack from behind. Losing the core meant losing the battle.

"Okay, but not all my spell-casters," said Peek. He looked into the dark night, down the slope, where more than sixty of Voldemort's witches and wizards had gathered under lit torches. "You'll be glad to have the meat grinders against a rush or to shore up a breach."

"Meat grinders? What are Meat grinders?," said the Hufflepuff as he gave a shake of his head. A spattering of confusion mixed in with the fear that was already showing on his face.

Peek smiled. "What's your name, Hufflepuff?"

The young man looked around as if the answer to why his name was needed, might lay in the faces looking his way. "My name is Michael."

Peek smiled again. "Okay Michael, go back and tell Mr. Shacklebolt I will send a mix of fighters; half heroes and half grinders. He'll know what it means."

Michael was off like a shot and glad to be done with the imposing Londoner and his gang of street thugs. Also, he felt more vulnerable outside the castle and in full view of the enemy on the slopes below.

"Aaron!" called Peek to a Londoner further down. "Take five and five. Report to Kingsley Shacklebolt, in the great hall. If he's not there, head to the south bastion."

Aaron stepped up to Peek and Ivy. "Right, Shacklebolt. I remember him - he's a big guy with a deep voice. I'll take Monica and Bugsy for starters, if that's okay."

"Sure, but listen, Aaron. We're not fodder for this battle. We're not a human wall to die in the first charge. Don't let these ' _proper'_ witches and wizards put you upfront unless you're standing shoulder to shoulder with them. Understand?"

"Not a problem, Boss-man."

"Alright, get outta here," said Peek with a confident smile. "We'll see you when this is done."

"Cheers," said Aaron with a nod. "Ma'am," said Aaron with another nod to Ivy.

"There we go with the 'ma'am' again," said Ivy as she watched Aaron speed off. "I'm only twenty-two!" she shouted after him, but he was busy pulling his ten people.

"I don't suppose I could get you into the castle?" said Peek. "Maybe to the infirmary? There will be plenty of work there."

"I like it here," said Ivy.

Peek scoffed. "But, look at you, you look like a hand-maiden from an old picture-book. Did Dethnal make you wear these clothes?"

Ivy laughed. "He did - he was odd that way. Creepy."

"Would it change anything to tell you I remember you dying in clothes like these, in my dream? If I remember right, you'll be dead in less than thirty minutes."

"Only thirty?" said Ivy. "Wow…a lifetime, being right here." Ivy dipped her voice lower, into a mock-threatening tone. "Without _anybody_ moving me." Ivy then softened her voice. "Look, Peek, I have no life as a muggle-born in this country and I can't escape - I'd swim the damn channel if I could, but I can't swim, and I won't go back to Dethnal. I'm sure he was working up some justification for having a go at me, mud blood and all. I won't let that happen, Peek. Never."

Peek smiled. He had confrontations with purebloods before. They were always so surprised when defeated by someone of lesser blood, someone like him.

"Okay," said Ivy with a change of tone. "Tell me, Boss-man. What do we do next, if you remember this dream so well?"

"Well, we get up and walk the barricade looking for weaknesses and encouraging all these people."

"Fine," said Ivy. She looked down the slope at the gathering Voldemort followers just as a dozen more arrived.

"Peek," continued Ivy, "in your dream, do you remember if I kill Dethnal? Is he here?"

Peek shook his head. "I don't really know him. I don't think so."

Ivy nodded her understanding.

Ten minutes later, the tower clock struck midnight and the battle for Hogwarts began.

"Look!" called Peek as loud explosions thundered back towards the front gates. The brilliant flashes illuminated Voldemort and many of his people in the far distance.

Within minutes the magic barriers around the castle grounds failed. Peek, and Ivy, and their small band of Londoners watched as more than eighty of Voldemort's followers began the charge towards them, up the slopes.

"So many of them," breathed Ivy, "and they know there are children behind these walls."

"There are children in front of the walls, too," said Peek as he glanced to either side. Many of the Londoners were his age or younger.

Ivy nodded.

"Give 'em hell!" shouted Peek when the nearest of their attackers were within spellcasting range.

The Londoners were warriors who survived countless skirmishes and battles. They were tempered like hardened steel. Their sharp-shooters laid down a withering hail of legs-b-gone, skel-e-vap, brittle-skin, and mind-wipe curses. Harven Dullberry, a scrapper from Cambridge, was a master of the Unforgiveable Curses, all of them. There was no mistaking the death-green bursts of light that jetted out from his position. There was no missing when firing into the charging wall of Voldemort's minions and Harven could account for more than fifteen of the fallen before the attackers had crossed midway, up to the castle.

The attack stalled. The Londoners held the high ground for more than an hour while their attackers lay pinned down before them, hiding where they could, or hugging the ground as they dragged themselves forward on their bellies.

"Do not relent! Do not show mercy!" shouted Peek. "We have the advantage now but we will lose it if they reach us!"

Voldemort's followers suffered scores of casualties and the long angled climb up to the castle robbed the strength from all but the hardiest. Still, they had greater numbers by far, and the persistence born on fear of their master, Voldemort. They inflicted their own damage on the defenders and when they, at last, pushed their way up to the level ground before the constructed barriers, only three of the London spellcasters remained, along with Peek and Ivy.

With a roar, the twenty Londoners who were hidden behind the barricade sprung out with their axes, knives, and clubs like a medieval ambush. They were called "Meat-Grinders" for obvious reasons as they waded into the battle, swinging their weapons, and exacted their toll. The smell of death laced the light breeze and the ground ran slick with blood.

Voldemort lay siege to Hogwart's from multiple directions and this assault force from the lake stumbled but did not fail. With many of the castle defenses down, dark wizards and witches apparated into the Londoner's midsts and they swooped down on brooms with renewed fury. To make matters worse, huge spiders, the spawn of Aragog, swarmed up on the right, from the forest, and were climbing across the wall behind. Mere seconds remained before the Londoners were cut off from any help, surrounded, and overwhelmed.

"There's too many!" shouted Peek to Ivy and then to the others, "Londoners! Fall back to the left - towards the castle front! Fall back!"

Peek battled three wizards while Ivy defended against two from behind him. None of the wizards were death eaters. They were out of breath after the long climb and it was clear they were frightened, but there was a madness in their eyes, a palpable fear, as if failure was far worse than death. They charged with their wands ablaze, as Peek and Ivy strove to shield against them and drive them back while the others escaped.

Without warning, and from where Peek could not say, he was struck by a wizard's whip spell that wrapped around his legs and pulled them out from under him. He went down with a crash and was dragged five feet, into the steel plates of the barricade. At the same moment, Ivy was struck with a Wizard Whallop spell. She flew ten feet and landed on top of Peek. Ivy was agile, like a cat, and immediately came up on all fours, over Peek. She raised her wand and blocked spells from all sides, while Peek unraveled the whip spell.

"Hurry," said Ivy in a fit of controlled panic. Wizards and Witches were closing in from all sides. "I can't stop them for long."

"Almost," replied Peek as the eldritch straps uncoiled, but then, Ivy shuddered. Her wand arm fell limp as her wand rolled out from her fingers. The other arm supporting her weight began to tremble as her eyes found Peek's.

"I got longer than thirty minutes, Peek," she said with a weak laugh. "You told me I only had thirty minutes." The corners of Ivy's mouth curled up into a smile.

"Ivy, I-" began Peek but the statement faltered on his lips.

Ivy shuddered again, and again, and again as a wizard, behind her, opened up her back with Meat-Cleaver Maxima spells.

"Peek...," said Ivy with difficulty, "I'm okay with this. No regrets."

"Ivy, don't go…" said Peek.

The Wizard Whip spell ended with a small puff of smoke. Ivy saw it as did Peek.

"Go get them, Tiger," said Ivy as she gave a final smile, died, and fell onto Peek.

When she was dragged off of Peek, bodily, by her arm and a fistful of her long hair, Peek came up with his walnut wand and Ivy's wand, the one she had taken from her former master.

"Avada Kedavra!" shouted Peek at the wizard who had gored Ivy's back open with his cruel spells. The man before him was a dark wizard and a death eater, not one of the mind-addled supporters or one who had been threatened into service. It was he who had caught Peek with the Wizard Whip spell.

"Avada Kedavra!" Shouted the death eater at Peek, in the same moment.

Two flashes of green light lit the castle wall and the sloping field before it.

* * *

"My apologies, sir," said the house-elf, aboard the Hogwarts Express, steaming for London.

Peeks's eyes sprung wide as he roused himself from the nightmare.

"We will be arriving soon," continued the elf. "You will have only eight minutes to disembark."

Peek nodded groggily. "I'll be ready."

"Of course, sir," said the elf as he bowed low and exited back towards the train engine.

Peek paused in thought. "Ivy…," he said as he remembered her smile and her laugh and her death. "That was so real."

Peek watched the expanse of London as the Express drew near it. He sat in contemplation over the nightmare.

"If I have another dream like that - or I guess I had my first nightmare - I'll go back on the old goblin potion and stay up at night instead. I don't ever want to ever see that again."

* * *

Peek had many dreams in fact; of the coming of Voldemort, of attacks on muggles, of Dumbledore's death, the ousting of a minister and the death of his successor.

Dumbledor and he met on many occasions to discuss his dreams and nightmares and it was the headmaster's keen interest that convinced Peek they were premonitions - not just dreams and nightmares. Peek turned down Hogwarts' invitation to return that fall. In the intervening years, he would build a small army to face Voldemort and his followers, and he would devise a way to make Ivy listen to him. Of all the tasks he took to himself, saving Ivy Taggart, might prove to be both the toughest and the most desperately needed. She was, and would remain, his only true friend.

"So," said Peek to himself. "How do I find, _and end_ , 'Master Dethnal'?"

* * *

This is where the story of Peek ends. He often dreamed of his role in the battle of Hogwarts but found no way to change it or avoid it. The death eater, in those final moments, missed Peek with his killing curse. Peek did not miss. The death eater crumpled where he stood and was dead before his head struck the ground. Peek had used both wands, something he learned to do at a young age, and was knocked unconscious from the doubled release of energy. He was thought to be dead and was left undisturbed by Voldemort's people as they continued their castle siege. He awoke hours later when Voldemort halted the battle and recalled his forces back from Hogwarts.

Peek carried I'vy's body back to the great hall. When he stumbled, Katie Bell helped him cross the remaining distance and place Ivy with the other fallen. Peek and Katie had fought during Peek's stay at Hogwarts after which, Peek had been expelled. She did not recognize Peek. When she last saw him, he was a tiny first-year disapparating away on Professor McGonagall's arm.

The large Acromantulae, children of Aragog, carried off many of the human dead and wounded when they returned to the forbidden forest. Peek and the remaining Londoners were chasing them down when Harry Potter had his final dual with Voldemort.

Years later, Peek met Potter by chance, in Diagon Ally. It pleased him to know that Harry Potter, the Hero, remembered Ivy Taggart.

Years later, still, Peek tracked down Giles Dethnal, Ivy's former "Master" and the reason she stayed at Hogwarts despite her imminent death. He killed Dethnal outside a Liverpool pub in front of Dethnal's wife. She was indifferent on the matter and stated that he would not be missed.

Peek continued to have dreams and the occasional nightmare when he slept, but they no longer foretold events of the future unless by random chance.

The End.


End file.
